DID You Hear The Rabbit Cry?
by demon lilith
Summary: It seems that Harry has Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder). To him, this is nothing new. He's known of his alters for as long as he can remember. Magic, however, is a different story entirely. When he finds himself sorted into Slytherin, he finds that the choices he must make are more important than he ever imagined. (Note: follows the book until year 2)
1. Prequel and Chapter 1

D.I.D You Hear the Rabbit Cry?

.

Maybe it started when he was a child. Maybe it resulted from life with an abusive aunt and uncle, from days spent hiding bruises and nights spent hiding quietly in a cupboard under the stairs. Maybe it was because he needed a friend, someone to confide in, someone who wasn't cruel Dudley or sneering school children or a school counselor who was justfourmoreminutesuntilmylu nchbreakthankfuckinggod tired of her job. Maybe it was because he was weak. He was an easy target. He could never defend himself from his uncle or stop the bullies. Save for his freakiness, he was _weak_. Maybe that was why.

Maybe not. After all, his body was never his, not even in his first year of life. How could it have been? Things were fine at first. His parents were oh so good, after all. Oh so loving. Nothing was wrong with his life, not at first. And then HE came, and his parents were dead. Traumatic enough, of course, considering that he was barely a toddler at the time. It would have been enough to scar anyone (and oh how it did). But that wasn't all. Of course it wasn't. HIS soul was split as well, you see, and a piece of it just happened to enter him. Two minds, one body, oh dear, what _was_ he to do?

And little Harry s.p.l.i.t.

"Useless boy," Vernon huffs, and Harry nods wearily. He forces himself to stare at Vernon's shoes instead of allowing his eyes to drift off, half closed and glazed. There's a pressure growing behind his right eye, and he knows that Boy wants to front. Harry holds his ground, but only just barely. Simpering like a fool may shut Vernon up for now, but it will only encourage more mocking later. Harry's tired of feeling like a fool. He is not stupid, he is not useless, and he'll be damned if he lets Vernon think that he thinks that he is. He'll be damned if he lets Vernon break him!

_That's the spirit!_ Potter smirks, and Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes. God, Potter is a bitch. Harry focuses back on Vernon just in case the man should notice his distraction. Of course Vernon doesn't. He never does. He's too self obsessed. Still, who is Harry to make waves? His back still hurts from yesterday. Even Bruises wasn't enough to curtail his uncle's anger. Shame. Harry bites the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. God, is he messed up.

Finally, Vernon stomps off after, of course, demanding that Harry get back in his goddamn cupboard! A smile breaks out on Harry's face, and he gladly complies. He lies down gingerly on his side and closes his jade green eyes. For a moment, there's a distinct falling sensation. Harry looks into a small room with several doors attached, each leading to a hallway with additional doors. Potter is waiting there for him, scoffing and pushing his long black bangs out of his face.

"Stupid kid," he scoffs, "Wha'd'ya do to piss of the Vermin this time?"

Harry dryly laughs. "Who knows? Maybe I breathed too much of his precious air. Because goodness knows there's not enough of that going around!" Potter nods. He gestures to a worn red chair, and Harry takes a seat. The two boys rest in companionable silence. Finally, Potter sighs.

"What are we going to do about the letters?" he asks. Harry remains still, frozen as stone. "Harry," Potter warns, "You can't just ignore this. A school of magic, Harry! It sounds insane, sure, but can you imagine what this would mean for us? Freedom at last! It could be a fucking cult for all I care. Just screw the Dursleys, you know? And you're going to let this just slip through our fingers?"

Harry rests his head in his hands and grits his teeth. "I'm not letting anything slip through our fingers. I'm trying to be logical about this, okay?" He pictures the envelope in his mind, remembering how Freak had managed to sneak it inside past their uncle. He traces the letters in his mind. For a moment, he allows himself to picture It. Hogwarts, a school of magic. _Magic_. It would explain Freak's talents, but is it really possible? It doesn't seem very likely, but oh how he wants it to be true! He would do anything, anything at all…

Potter makes a noise in disgust and stands up. He walks over to one door that stands apart from the others and disappears inside of it. Harry stares at the now empty space and wonders if he should follow. He decides against it. He's had enough of the outside world for today. It's time to sleep.

_Time passes, as time is wont to do._

It was Harry and Potter who met Hagrid, but it was Hansel who enjoyed Diagon Alley the most. He has always loved fairy tales, and as far as he's concerned, being a wizard is totally the best thing ever! The candy store probably didn't hurt, either. When he realized that some of the candy actually moved, he was almost beside himself with joy. He loved the owls, as well. He would have taken home all of them, if he could! Why couldn't he? They were nice owls, see? They didn't even bite or anything! And they came in nice, shiny cages!

By the time Potter manages to drag theirselves into the wand shop, he's exhausted by the effort of keeping Hansel under control. What would people think if the first impression that they had of "Potter? Harry Potter?" involved the behavior a six year old? They would think that he was retarded! Granted, that would require that they paid attention to him and not just his reputation. Potter isn't sure that anyone would. How could they be so convinced that he (well, Harry) is their savior? Even if he supposedly did defeat this "Dark Lord" of theirs as an infant, what makes them think that he is in anyway exceptional now? He's just a stupid kid!

Potter internally winces. He despises this body. Even when he manages to ignore its obvious weakness and short stature, there's still the age: 11. Potter is 15! What has he ever done to deserve this? He's not a pre-teen, and he's not a damn babysitter!

Hansel giggles and disappears inside. A moment later, Harry joins Potter. Potter scowls at him. _Some help you are. Prick_.

"Can I help you?" Potter turns to the source of the voice and finds himself facing a very old man. "You need a wand." The man prods. Potter slowly nods. Yes, he supposes that they do.

The first dozen or so are failures. Even if one will respond to him, if Harry flicks their wrist, the lights will explode. Glass coats the floor, and though the man (Ollivander, it seems) quickly cleans it up, Potter can't help but wonder if this is really safe. He has had his own fair share of bad picks, as well, and it seems as if they'll never find the correct wand.

"Try it," Ollivander nods, placing a smooth wand into Potter's waiting hand. Potter sighs and tightens his grip. His wrist spasms, the wand moving out of his control. Potter falls away from front, leaving Harry alone to experience the cold wave that crashes down on him. The wand glows dark, and everything feels right. The edge of Harry's mouth eases upwards. Perhaps he likes this magic thing, after all.

Hagrid arrives just in time to remain oblivious, and Harry goes to get fitted. There's another boy there. "Draco Malfoy", the boy proclaimes proudly. "And you must be Harry Potter? I know all about you!" Harry nods.

"How nice." The boy looks stung, but Harry's far too tired to care. The best he can manage is a small, apologetic smile. "Long day," he offers. Draco nods and begins to prattle on about his own day and how excited he is to go to Hogwarts.

"Maybe I'll see you there," Harry tells him. He gathers up his new robe and leaves with Hagrid, fully expecting to never give the boy the time of day. Harry knows better than to let people close.

_And time passes._


	2. Chapter 2

D.I.D You Hear the Rabbit Cry?

.

Harry stares in mute frustration at the brick wall in front of him. Platform 9 ¾. 9 ¾! How the hell is he supposed to find that? Like all other train stations, the platforms here jump from 9 to 10. There is no damn platform 9 ¾! Maybe Potter was right, and this is all just an elaborate prank. Harry isn't sure why anyone would have gone to all that trouble for him, but it makes him furious. Why did he ever let himself believe in something as stupid as magic? God, no wonder the Dursley's have such an easy time hurting him. He's a bloody idiot!

He kicks at the wall in mute frustration. Hedwig's cage clatters against the ground, and Harry's mouth drops open. Did- did his leg just go through the wall? Harry glances frantically around, but no one seems to notice him and his strange predicament. Except, why is that strangely large family moving in his direction?

"First year?" The mother asks him sympathetically, and Harry can only nod in response. The woman smiles at him. "Don't worry, my Ron is your age. He and his brothers will help show you around." And then she's distracted by twins, and Harry pulls himself free and backs up a bit. Was his leg showing on the other side, then? Could dozens of students see his dangling leg? Or, oh God, is this like a one way mirror? Could everyone on the other side see how stupid he is? His face flames , and he almost misses the twins running through the wall and disappearing.

_Just like our portal_, Potter breathes. Harry ignores him and, as directed, lines up behind Ron. As he runs towards the wall, all he can think of is splatting against it and falling to the floor like a stupid little bitch, but to his upmost surprise, he makes it through. He's in a different platform entirely, now, and people are milling about everyone. Children hug sobbing parents goodbye, and Harry's heart stings. _At least you have us_, Potter mock soothes him, and Harry moves onto the train.

He sits with Ron and tries not to appear too rude. Personally, he would prefer to spend the entire train ride staring out the window at their surroundings. He's never been this far from home before, he doesn't think. Everything is new and amazing right now, and he just wants some time to adjust and appreciate it. Ron won't shut up, though, and Harry feels like he should at least humor the boy. There's no need to make enemies, especially not this early in the game. Who knows when he might need someone willing to help him out.

A cart full of various candies arrives, and Hansel's squeal makes Harry wince. Never mind that only he can hear it, it's embarrassing! What if Hansel tries to respond to Ron and makes him look stupid? But Hansel won't stop whining, so Harry orders a few small candies. Seeing Ron's sheepish look and realizing that the other boy was probably not handed off a small fortune at the beginning of the school year, he gets a few extras and offers them up. Maybe Ron's glowing smile doesn't mean anything, but Harry does hope that the boy won't be too angry if they end up in different houses. The boy has been chattering about Gryffindor for the last half hour, now, and Harry's sure that he won't find himself there. Courageous? Helpful? Harry? As if! He's lucky that he's still alive. He can't afford to be worrying about other people. Besides, it's not like he could help them, anyway. What could a weakling like him ever do to help?

James stirs, but Potter pushes him away. Harry tries to ignore them both. He's not going to switch, not now. He needs to remain normal and alert. He needs to keep an eye out for hints as to how the year will go and who he should watch out for, and he doesn't want to draw attention t himself. _Good luck with that,_ Potter sneers, _How can the great Harry Potter hide from his adoring fans?_ Harry bites off the head of his frog with perhaps a bit too much force. Ron blabbers on.

Granger, a girl from the train, goes into Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy goes to Slytherin. Potter steps up to the large hat, and Harry wants to throw up. The Great Hall is near silent. A few first years are tittering nervously behind him, waiting for their turn to be sorted, but all of the upper classmen are staring intently at him. Their eyes trail his every move. He sits down and puts on the hat, and their eyes burn holes into his brain. Then the Sorting Hat is in his brain, and Harry is hiding behind Potter.

_Get out. _Potter's voice is harsh and flat, devoid of emotion_. Get out!_ Stronger now, a tint of paranoia marking his words. The Hat examines the room in silent fascination while Potter growls and shifts his weight to better shield Harry.

_Interesting_, the Hat remarks, _very interesting._ The folds that represent eyes rest on Potter. _A born Slytherin, _he remarks. The hat shifts to better observe Harry. _ But what about Harry? _Harry glares at the Hat. He doesn't care who it is or what it wants, it doesn't belong in his head! _Slytherin,_ the hat nods, and Harry realizes what he's done. Did Ron not just tell him how evil Slytherin was? Is he… can he be evil?

_Don't listen to him, Harry. _Potter says, but the Hat is already gone. Harry quickly surfaces. The hall is completely silent, now. Ron looks betrayed. Malfoy looks so smug that Harry wants to kill him, wants to wring his little throat and break his bones and…

On legs of jelly, Harry walks to the Slytherin table. He suffers through the long walk to the far end so that he can be alone. A few Slytherins begin to clap, finally inspiring the rest of the table to join in. Their cheers are mocking. Look, they seem to cry, we have the Potter, the famous Harry Potter. What will you do now? Harry wishes that they would shut up. He wants to slam their faces against the table, watch their nose collapse inward, shatter their skulls.

_Evil_. The word resonates in his head. Evil. He's evil, just like Uncle Vernon always told him. Bile rises in his throat. Potter takes control of the body, but Harry is inwardly spinning out of control. Evil. Why couldn't he have been a Gryffindor? Why couldn't he be good?

Potter closes his eyes against a sharp stab of pain. Ice washes through his mind. He's floating, watching through eyes that no longer belong to him. He's tied to a body that is not his. There's food in front of him. Moving through molasses, he piles random things onto his plate. Mechanically, he lifts them to his mouth. He's aware that other Slytherins have moved to join him. They're trying to talk to him, but their words don't make any sense. He moves the fork up to his mouth and returns it to his plate. His head is throbbing now. James is behind him, a sneer on his lips.

_Evil,_ James hisses, _I bloody knew it. _He laughs. Another voice joins is.

_And fat, too._ This voice is more feminine, but just as cruel. Jay. Potter ignores her and keeps eating. _Food won't fill the hole, sweetie, _Jay croons. _Nothing will. Evil is never satisfied, is it, James? _They laugh. Silence. _Stop eating, you goddamn fatass!_

_Isn't starving me Petal's job? _Potter retorts. _Have you decided to join the Anorexia train? _Jay hisses, and Potter laughs at the irony. And they're calling him bloody evil? Hypocrites, the lot of them.

Everyone is staring. Did he laugh out loud? Does it matter? Potter continues to eat, doing his best to ignore the twins and the headache alike. After what seems like forever, the meal ends, and Potter trudges up to the Slytherin Common Room, brain sloshing in his head with every step that he takes. He barely listens as their Professor, Snape, lists the house rules. He can feel someone else listening intently, memorizing who he will be. Potter just wants to collapse on a bed- he does get a bed here, right? No more trying to sleep on a mess of worn thin blankets?- and sleep.

Finally, he gets his wish.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, Harry isn't surprised when he's called to Dumbledore's office. It's not that he was expecting this, exactly, but he had known in advance that Dumbledore had a strange interest in him. After all, he's the boy hero, the "Boy Who Lived." That's why all of the teachers all but worship the ground that he walks on. Only Professor Snape seems to dislike him, and Harry isn't even sure that he minds this. It's better than Snape acting as if he's some sort of walking God. Some of the students seem to worship him, as well, and it creeps Harry out. He supposes that it's better than them hating him- quite a few students seem to hate him just because he's in Slytherin- but the attention is starting to get to him. After a life time of being ignored, it's hard to adjust to this.

Actually, Harry's finding it hard to adjust to a lot of things regarding his new life at Hogwarts. He stumbles a bit, feet dragging on the ground, and bites his lips to hold back a yawn. The first night here, Potter woke up at midnight with a throbbing head. Panicking, he had fought his way out of their tangled sheets and made it all the way to the door before he had remembered where he was. It had taken hours for him to get back to sleep. The bed, he claimed, was too soft. As silly as it sounds to be bothered by such a thing, Harry has to agree. He can't get used to it, either, and as a result finds himself constantly short on sleep. The large room doesn't help. For years, Harry had slept in a small cupboard under the stairs, and the space of his new room unnerves him. He can't help but feel exposed, as if he might be attacked at any moment. Having roommates- Draco and Blaise- further complicates the issue and ensures that Harry can barely close his eyes without being hit by panic. The idea of sleeping with others there just makes him feel too weak.

Admittedly, Harry has a very low tolerance for feeling weak. He doesn't see the problem with it. It inspires him to get stronger and improve, doesn't it? There's nothing at all wrong with that. Potter just likes to complain. Harry's a little surprised that Potter isn't with him now, but he knows that his alter will show up by the time that he reaches Dumbledore's office. He won't want to miss out on anything big, after all. Harry rolls his eyes and tries to remember Dumbledore's password. Something about a candy?

As predicted, by the time Dumbledore finishes offering him candy and tells him to please take a seat, Potter is hovering behind Harry, watching closely. _Buddies in paranoia_, Harry dryly laughs. He keeps his face composed and waits for Dumbledore to speak. Dumbledore takes his time, but Harry refuses to fidget or relax his posture. Even if Dumbledore is acting casually, this still seems to be an important meeting, and Harry doesn't want to look like a stupid little boy. Dumbledore seems to approve.

"Harry, my dear boy," he says, sadness coating his voice, and Harry's grip tightens reflexively around the chair's edge. He is no one's dear boy, let alone the headmaster's. He's never even met the man before! But he forces himself to nod and smile as if he's happy to be here, happy to be addressed in such a manner. _Don't make enemies, _he instructs himself_, don't make anyone angry with you._

Dumbledore's smile widens. "Harry," he repeats, "what are you doing in Slytherin?" Harry expected that the conversation would take this direction, but he pretends to be confused.

"I don't know sir." And he doesn't. He's not evil. He can't be evil. So why is he in the evil house?

Potter makes a groaning sound and squashes back James. Dumbledore, seeming not to notice Harry's inner distraction, continues, "I've received very positive reports of you from dear Hagrid, and I was told that you were becoming friends with Weasley. Why would you betray them and turn to Slytherin?"

Harry is unable to stop his mouth from dropping slightly. "The Hat picked Slytherin, sir. It wasn't my choice." Dumbledore shakes his head as if disappointed. Harry begins to feel trapped.

"We all have choices, Harry. I just hope that you can make the right ones." He smiles again. "I, for example, choose to have another lemon drop." Harry watches the old man pop another candy into his mouth. Why, he wonders, is Dumbledore so obsessed with this innocent old man façade? Dumbledore laughs as if he knows what Harry is thinking, but his face turns dark before he resumes his speech. "You have to understand, Harry. The last time the world faced Voldemort, there was much chaos and fear. Because you were the one to destroy him, as an infant, at that, they fear that you will be the next Dark Lord."

Harry feels as if he has been punched in the gut. "Headmaster, I'm not-" he blurts before he can stop himself. Dumbledore nods.

"I believe you, Harry. I can't say that I'm happy that you've been placed into Slytherin, but I trust that you won't betray us. However, you must be careful. We don't want people to think that their savior is going to follow the same path that Voldemort did."

Silence passes, allowing Dumbledore's words to sink in. However, Harry finds himself unable to face the idea of potentially being evil. He isn't. He _isn't_. Potter quickly changes the topic. "Why do you say Voldemort's name, sir? Every other time we've heard him referred to, he's been called He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Dumbledore shakes his head. "Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. Always call things by their name, Harry."

"I understand, sir." Dumbledore smiles again, seeming to cheer up.

"I'll stop wasting your time now," he winks at Harry. "Just think about what I've told you. You could be good for this school and increase house unity. Just be careful." Potter nods and stands up. When Dumbledore turns back to his work, Potter leaves and returns to his dorm room. Blaise is down in the common room doing homework, and Draco is off doing god-knows-what. Grateful for the alone time, Potter settles down to read.

_A/N:_

_The first book will more or less follow cannon with the side plot, of course, being Harry and his alters. From the second book on, things will deviate farther and farther._

_The current list of known alters includes: Harry (host), Potter (co-host), Boy (takes verbal abuse), Bruises (takes physical abuse), James (persecutor), Jay (persecutor), and Petal (anorexic persecutor)._


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stares down at the broom placed in front of him. In the back of his mind, James is all but jumping for joy. It's strange to see the normally caustic alter so happy, but apparently, he's a fan of Quidditch. How he even knows of the game is beyond Harry, but he's long used to taking his alters' strange habits and knowledge in stride. Besides, anything that stops James from yelling at him is a good thing. Without knowing it, Dumbledore had supplied James with enough ammo to last a life time. If James calls Harry "our new Dark Lord" one more time, Harry swears that he's going to commit altercide!

"Up!" Harry chants, and the broom flows smoothly up into his hand. It's wonderful, this magic. Harry's not weak and helpless anymore, he's a wizard! The thought makes him giddy. James pauses to sneer. _Yes, a wizard. A dark wizard, how lovely._ But then his attention is back on the broom, and so Harry ignores the comment. Truth be told, he's rather interested in flying, as well. In the back of his mind, however, he can feel Potter sulking. Apparently, Potter is scared of heights. _Pussy, _hisses James.

Copying the other students, Harry gets on the broom, straddling it between his legs. He can feel the magic thrumming through it, and he doesn't have to expend any effort to hold it up, like he thought he would. He glances around at the other students. Some, like Draco, seem perfectly at ease, as if they've grown up flying. Others, mostly the muggle borns, have a strange mixture of excitement and terror on their faces. Many of them have taken on a white ting, and one boy looks like he might faint. He's not, Harry realizes, a muggle born after all, but Neville. Wasn't he the boy who lost his toad?

Neville seems to be getting paler and paler every second. He keeps shifting his weight from one foot to another. _He shouldn't be doing that_, James comments idly. Harry is about to ask why when the broom shoots out from underneath Neville. Neville keeps a tight grip, so up he goes! Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, yells, curses under her breath, and runs after Neville as if she means to catch him. She's a little too late; he slams into a tree and falls to the ground from a rather impressive height. Madam Hooch examines his arm and shakes her head. "Broken wrist," she mutters.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can 'Quidditch.'" She hurries off with Neville, and James rolls his eyes. Harry eyes the other students, not trusting that any sort of order will be maintained with the teacher gone. He isn't surprised when, moments later, Draco begins looking around for something to mess with.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" Harry's classmates burst out into laughter, but James grits his teeth. _Bloody twat_, he hisses, face contorting with anger. Some of the Gryffindors eye him curiously, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are glued to Draco, who shouts, "Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him. "

"Give that here, Malfoy." Draco freezes and turns to face James. James is still staring at him, anger turning his posture stiff. Draco blanches, but recovers quickly.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"

"Give it _here!_" James yells, and Harry notes how much deeper his voice is when he's angry. He has the vague feeling that he should care about this situation, but he's slightly to see James caring about someone else, and it's taking away the panic. He watches as Draco flies up to the top of a tree and tosses the Remembrall from one hand to another. He seems to have decided to treat James's challenge like a game.

"Come and get it, Potter!" For a split second, Potter glances out at the field, but James shoves him out of the way. Then James is on the broom, launching himself into the air. Gasps sound behind him, but James is grinning fiercely. Harry realizes that yes, flying is enjoyable. The air lifts his robe behind him and swirls through his hair. The broom responds to his every motion, and it sits so comfortably beneath him. He's never touched a broom in his life- not a flying broom, at least- but it feels like he was born flying.

James releases the broom for a second to swipe his bangs to the side, and then he turns to Draco, still flying one handed. Draco's eyes widen. "Give it here," James calls to him, "or I'll knock you off that broom of yours!"

"Oh yeah?" Draco tries to sneer, but there's a hint of panic on his face. He shoots a worried glance down as if it's just now occurred to him that James might be serious. James leans forwards and grabs the broom tightly. It shoots forwards at Draco, who just barely dodges in time. James executes a sharp turn, holding the broom steady behind Draco. His eyes narrow. A few people are cheering him on from below, but James is still focused solely on Draco. He opens his mouth, but Draco cuts him off. "Catch it if you can!" He shouts, throwing the glass ball high into the air. Then he turns and streaks towards the ground.

_Nice_, Harry approves. It's a clever way to save face and appear as if this is just a friendly game. Or, it would be, if James didn't still look so furious. James has already leaned forward and pointed his broom down, and he's gaining speed with every second, rushing down steeply. The wind races past his ears and people are screaming. He allows a smirk to settle on his lips. He stretches out his hand, and, barely a foot above the ground, firmly grasps the Remembrall, pulls his broom straight, and gently lands. He pumps his fist into the air triumphantly.

"Harry Potter!" The cold voice makes Harry's heart sink, and it makes James's skin prickle with anger. They turn around to see Professor Snape staring at them. "Did you intend to break your neck?" he drawls, and Harry has to force James not to spit at the professor's feet.

"It wasn't his fault-" Parvati Patil begins, and Harry recognizes her as the girl who tried to shut Malfoy up when he first began taunting Neville. He smiles at her, but Professor Snape is glaring.

"That will be enough, Ms. Patil. Mr. Potter, you are coming with me." Harry wants to shrink away when the man grabs his wrist, but James's mouth widens into a hiss. He follows the professor, but he glares daggers into the man's back. Harry, meanwhile, is faced by a growing sense of confusion. They're not heading to Dumbledore's office, as he had expected. They're going to a classroom, and Professor Snape is requesting to see a student, Marcus Flint. Is he going to handle Harry's punishment?

The fifth year boy follows Professor Snape to an empty classroom. He seems as confused as Harry is, but Harry decides that he doesn't like him. His face is mean, somehow. James rolls his eyes. _He's a Slytherin, of course he's a slimy snake._

"I suggest you replace Higgs," Snape drawls.

Flint seems to understand what this means, and replies, "This boy is our seeker?"

"Potter," Snape demands, "was that your first time on a broom?" Harry slowly nods. James won't allow him to say 'Yes, sir', and he hopes he's not being too rude. Luckily, Snape doesn't seem to expect that of them, perhaps because his view of them is already so low.

"He caught a Remembrall after a fifty-foot dive and landed." Now Flint is beaming.

"You're going to join our Quidditch team," he informs Harry. "I'm your Captain." James is indignant at the wording, but Flint, for all his close examination of Harry, doesn't seem to notice. "You're built light, like a Seeker," he nods, "but you'll need a good broom. A Nimbus 2000, maybe." For a moment, a sneer touches his lips, and Harry feels a flash of shame. He doesn't understand any of this, and he does know that Flint is mocking him for this. At least he won't be expelled.

When he returns to his dorm room, Draco is waiting sullenly. "What was that all about?" he demands.

Harry meets his eyes and calmly responds, "I don't take well to bullies, Draco." The boy makes a face. "If it helps any," Harry says, "We weren't docked any points. I was made Seeker." Now Draco's struggling between shock and admiration.

"You're the only first year Seeker we've had for centuries," he chokes out. Harry nods. Flint has already bragged about this. Draco shakes his head. "I'm surprised that Snape is allowing this." He eyes Harry as if Harry cheated somehow, and James silently threatens to pound his face in.

"He didn't look like he wanted to," Harry admits. _Because he's an oily bastard, _James continues. Draco seems mollified. Now that the ordeal is over, he wants to claim a part in helping Harry reach fame. Harry doesn't mind. Any ally is a good ally.

James spits over their shoulder before they leave their dorm for dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry picks at his food and keeps his eyes trained downwards. A good amount of noise is being made by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables can't seem to stop glancing over at him. He can make out enough of their whispered conversations to know that he's the topic. After all, what kind of Slytherin would defend a student who was being bullied? What kind of Potter would be a Slytherin in the first place?

_Not a very good one,_ James smiles. There's a faint sense of agreement and disagreement at the same time. After a moment, Harry works out that the new alter, whoever the hell they are, agrees that a good Slytherin would never defend a kid like Neville, but whoever it is isn't quite fond of Potters. Harry hopes that James and the new alter won't fight much. Things are complicated enough already.

_Someone wants to talk to you_, Potter warns him. Harry turns around to see a second year Gryffindor staring down at him. Beside him, Draco nudges Crabbe and kicks Goyle, preparing his goons for a fight, if the need arises. Harry meets the Gryffindor's gaze and waits for him to speak. After a moment, the Gryffindor grins. "I knew it!" he proclaims, "You really are one of us, aren't you? I don't know how you managed to get sorted with these lousy gits, but don't worry, we have your back. We knew the Boy Who Lived wasn't a snake!"

James breaks out into a wide grin before Harry can compose himself, and the Gryffindor returns to his table ecstatic. Next to him, Draco scowls. "What was that all about?" He demands. "Damn Gryffindors. Don't listen to them, Potter." James scowls in Draco's direction even as the new alter fiercely agrees and wants to tell the impudent Gryffindor just how wrong he is. Harry turns back to his dinner and resumes picking at it. Classes have barely even started, and already, he's being singled out. He wonders when everyone will turn on him.

Harry finds himself again sitting in Dumbledore's office, again waiting for the man to stop preoccupying himself with candies and just get on to whatever he wants to tell him. Why must the man be so intent on taking his time? Annoyed, Potter decides to intervene. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore nods, turning his attention to Potter. "Yes, I did." There's a pause, and Potter sighs. Dumbledore winks before continuing, and Harry is glad that Potter is more patient than he is. He wouldn't be reacting so well at the moment. "I simply wanted to congratulate you," Dumbledore says, and Potter raises an eyebrow. Behind him, James smirks, already knowing what the Headmaster is going to say. Indeed, he continues, "You're already doing so much for the school! It was wonderful of you to help Longbottom like that. Already, people are realizing that not all Slytherins are evil."

_I don't believe it for a second_, James mutters, _The only reason you seem not evil is because I intervened. Like a real Slytherin would ever do that! _Harry frowns for a different reason. _Are we the man's PR agent, now? _Potter ignores them both.

"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?" After all, there was no way that the Headmaster had called him up just for that. Dumbledore takes off his glasses and spends a moment polishing them. Harry mentally groans. Dumbledore puts them back on and smiles. Potter keeps his face blank.

"Yes, actually. I was simply wondering… you see, I already know that the Gryffindors are quite taken in by you. They're impressed by your heroics. I was wondering how the Slytherins are reacting to you standing up for a fellow classmate?"

"I don't quite know, sir. I think that they were impressed enough with my spot on the Quidditch team to let it drop. No one's really expressed a problem with it, to my knowledge." _Because of me, _James reminds them smugly. _Slytherins never do anything good. _

_Oh shut up, will you? _Harry internally buries his head in his hands as if has a headache. Potter realizes that, distracted, he missed something the Headmaster had said. Judging by his pensive face, it was likely that he was simply commenting about how 'that's good.'

"May we leave now, sir?" Potter asks. Dumbledore startles.

"Oh, ah, one last question. My dear boy, how have the Dursleys been treating you? It's been pointed out to me that you're a little under fed."

For a moment, the world slows down. Potter tries to open his mouth and brush away the Headmaster's concern, but James laughs scornfully. _Too late._

"The Dursleys are wonderful," Petal blinks up at Dumbledore innocently, "I'm so thankful that they were willing to take me in as a baby! They didn't have to do that, you know. They already had their own child to take care of, and I was such a burden, what with my learning curve, and all." The speech is well rehearsed. She beams at him. "As for being underweight, I really have no idea how! I eat like a pig. Well, I have been since I came here, at least. The food's just too good." She shrugs her shoulders, feet swinging back and forth innocently.

Dumbledore's eyes widen. "I see. Are you sure? Hagrid informed me that they didn't seem to think much of you and were horribly averse to magic."

"I'm positive! Gosh, how can you judge them based on that? Anyone would be scared of a giant man intruding on their home and threatening them with magic! Even if they knew that it existed, 'course they'd be scared of it. They're just people! They did the best that they could with me, and I'm so glad that they were willing to put up with my own magic. Some people might have preferred to throw me out into the streets or kill me on a spot! It's really horrible, isn't it? But no, the Dursleys are wonderful."

Dumbledore frowns, taking in the much lighter voice and expressive movements. Petal smiles placidly and waits. "Potter" Dumbledore slowly says, "Are you alright?"

"Of course!" Petal's voice pitches higher. "Why wouldn't I be?" Only her feet gaining speed as they swing back and forth betrays her agitation. Inside, Harry and Potter wait with baited breaths, silently begging the man to buy it. To their dismay, he shakes his head.

"I would appreciate you not lie to me, Potter."

Petal bows her head so that when anger flashes across her face, he can't see. The nails of her right hand dig into her palm, drawing blood. "Sorry, sir," she whispers, "but they really are good people. They're a little scared of magic, it's true, but they were never bad to me. They may not have liked me as much as they liked Dudley, but that's just natural, since he was their birth son. Please don't be mistaken. If I am at all bitter, it's my own ungratefulness."

"I see." Dumbledore finally replies, still eyeing Petal. "I suppose that you can go now."

"Thank you, sir." Petal lifts her head and bows it in respect but walking lightly from the room. As soon as she reaches the hallways, her gait becomes agitated. _You little f-cking bitch,_ she silently murmurs to Harry, _you almost got us f-cking revealed! For once in your life, just once in your god-mn life, can't you do something right?_

_James is the one who brought attention to us, not Harry, _Potter reminds her. She laughs harshly, encouraging a few Hufflepuff girls to edge wearily away.

_Right. Let's blame James for trying to be a good person! Let's blame James for trying to help someone else! Let's reward little fucking Potter for thinking that's oh so much better than everyone else. Let's give him a medal for being self centered. While we're at it, why not just allow him to make us look like the next Dark Lord? Or, Hell, is that what you're planning? Do you think being a Dark Lord will give you enough ego pats? I bet even that won't be enough for you. What is wrong with you? Why can't you just be satisfied with what you have instead of always trying to place the blame on someone else?_

Petal is seething by the time she reaches their dorm. She slams the door and throws their shoes against the floor, over near the wall. Now that they're alone, her voice escapes in angry whispers.

"You better not get an inflated view of yourself, you little freak. You may be at a school of magic, everyone here may think you're a d-mn hero, but you're still just a worthless brat. You better not forget that, or you'll regret it. I'll make sure of that."


	6. Chapter 6

That night, Harry gets no sleep. The next morning, Petal doesn't allow him to eat. James won't let him talk to Draco (_that dirty Slytherin)_, so Harry sits at the table alone and tries not to let his head fall onto the piece of toast he's picking at. He knows better than to try to sneak a bite. He used to play this game with Vernon and Petunia. For three days, he'd be left unfed. Then they'd set breakfast right in front of him. If he resisted temptation to eat, he'd get to eat lunch. If he tried to eat, he got beaten. Simple, really. It happened the most during the beginning and middle of summer. He had to be better fed by the time school rolled around. They couldn't let anyone know, of course.

Harry wonders if it's okay now because no one is paying attention, if Petal only plans to do this occasionally, or if Petal doesn't care if they get found out because the action can't be traced back to his aunt and uncle. Judging from her reaction yesterday, she probably still wants to avoid detection. He should be able to eat by dinner, then. No use overreacting now.

The bell rings, and Harry heads to the dungeons. Potions is the first class of the day. It usually is, save for Tuesdays and Thursdays, when Slytherins have Charms. Either way, the day starts off with Gryffindor. Harry doesn't understand why Slytherins and Gryffindors share so many classes, what with the intense house rivalries, and all. Slytherin has Flying and Astronomy with Gryffindor, as well, and only History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively. Maybe the Headmaster really is trying to promote house equality, but somehow, Harry doesn't think that he's doing a great job at it.

Slowly, the Potions classroom fills up. As always, Harry is sitting off to the side, closer to the back than to the front. Blaise sits next to him. Draco is off near the front of the room with his cronies, and Harry knows that he enjoys sitting near Weasley and Granger so that he can mock them more. Snape, in his infinite fairness, never sees it necessary to put a stop to this.

_Of course he doesn't,_ Jay sneers, _he only cares about the feelings of his precious little Death Eaters, of course._

_ Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters! _Jay just rolls her eyes in response. Harry is getting so tired of this. He's had a variation of this argument every Potions class since the school year started and Jay realized that she had the most talent with Potions. If anyone but Snape taught the class, that would be fine, but as things stand, Jay spends every available second making snide comments and glaring. At least now Snape has a perfectly justifiable reason for hating Harry. He must wonder why his own student holds so much distaste for him. The other Slytherins seem to worship the ground he walks on.

_That's because he spoils them rotten, _Jay promptly informs Harry. _Now shut up. Class is starting, and you're useless here._

History of Magic is the next class, and, as always, Harrison is out within the first few minutes to keep Harry from dropping off to sleep. At first, Harry tried to pay attention, he really did, but the class is just so dry the best he could manage was to scribble down a few odd notes and then fall to drawing stars on the paper. Somehow, Harrison manages to maintain an active interest, so now Harry just leaves it all up to him. Harrison has always been their fall back academic. A nerd, as James so kindly puts it. He has a superb memory, a fantastic attention span, and is talented at retention of details. Really, there's little reason for Harry to even pretend to stay front for this class. If last week was any indication, the students are going to start dropping like flies within the next few minutes, and it's not like the few Ravenclaws left awake will know enough about him to recognize the change, anyway.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment and allows Harrison to take full control of the body. Then he's inside. Potter isn't here, though Harry can't imagine why. Usually, they're both watching front together. To be fair, going to Hogwarts has been a rather large change. He never imagined that Jay would be a daily necessity (and can't say that he enjoys the change), so perhaps the fronting team is still shifting to adjust to their schedule. He's sure that Potter will be out later. For now, he should probably make use of the rare alone time to rest and think.

The most urgent issue seems to regard hiding. Because no one ever paid much attention to them, Harry's DID went unnoticed for years both at home and at school. Now that he's some sort of celebrity, Harry wonders how he and his alters will manage. He and Potter can switch back and forth without notice, but while James and Jay may be similar to each other, there's no way that either of them can pass for Harry. Harry wonders if he should stop allowing Jay to perform potions for him and cut James off the Quidditch team. If his alters can do it, he can right?

… No. Not really, no. Would it be better, then, for Harry himself to front less? The school expects a perfect Gryffindor, anyway. James is a b-stard, but he fits their idea of the Boy Who Lived better. He'd probably be better accepted. Besides, if he could draw attention from them…

A door slams open. Harry looks up in surprise, wondering if something has triggered Freakazoid without his knowledge, but the alter in front of him is someone completely new. They do look familiar, and Harry recognizes some of their features as comparable to Malfoy's. The hair is black with green dyed tips, and the eyes are emerald, but he has the same thin face, unmarred skin, and pointed chin. Actually, now that Harry's noticed it, the overall resemblance is striking. The intense glare probably doesn't hurt.

"I suppose you're our new Slytherin alter?" Harry wonders if he should be concerned that they've split into a new alter just to satisfy Slytherin stereotypes. He wonders what it means that they identified Draco as the prime Slytherin example. He wonders just when he stopped caring.

"Snake," the boy proudly proclaims, with a strange half nod. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and glares. Harry watches with distant amusement.

"I suppose you dislike the idea of me handing the system over to a Gryffindor persecutor?" Snake doesn't answer the question, but his glare is telling enough. Harry laughs. "Yes, I suppose that would be a bad idea, if only because Petal would take it as an invitation to starve us half to death. After all, why let one persecutor run the club and not another?"

Snake just rolls his eyes. Harry takes this to mean that he can't think of a decent response. After a moment, Harry rests back against the chair he's sitting in and closes his eyes, hoping Snake will take the hint. Whether he understands or not, he doesn't seem inclined to respect it.

"What are you going to do about Dumbledore?"

"Excuse me?" Harry doesn't open his eyes.

"What if he keeps bothering us about the past that he abandoned us to? What will you do then?"

"Excuse me?" Despite himself, interest sparks in Harry. "What do you mean, abandoned us to?"

"Do you really think that the great Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn't keep track of his precious Boy Who Lived? Don't be _stupid_, Harry. He must have known even beforehand how the Dursleys would react to you, and his questioning you? No way was that because you were underweight."

"Sod off," Harry mutters, squeezing his eyes firmly shut. When Snake starts talking again, he returns to the body and watches Harrison take notes, shutting Snake out of his awareness. If there's one thing that Harry is not, it's paranoid. His protectors can be on the cautious side, but he's not going to listen to Snake's blind prejudice. He's heard enough Slytherin hate to last him a life time.

And James goes to his first Quidditch practice with a bunch of Gryffindor haters on Friday. Lovely.

_A/N:_

_This was, admittedly, a bit of a filler chapter of sorts. There is important information in this chapter, and it does introduce alters, but it's mainly used as a set up to so that too much doesn't happen at once._

_Also, if I use any terms you don't understand, just ask. I forget sometimes that not everyone studies psychology as extensively as I do!_

**Reviews:**

**crimson hearts: I can't exactly give that away! I will say that Harry himself is darker than book!Harry.**

**Mika-Mustang: Good for you. ^^**

**Narutard180: In a way, yes. It's not so much that he witnessed his father's mean side, but he did witness his father's prejudice against Slytherins. When he himself got into Slytherin, it induced quite a bit of self hate.**


	7. Chapter 7

James joins the rest of the Slytherin team out on the Quidditch grounds and waits for them to acknowledge him. Flint half smiles in his direction and boasts about how he's their new Seeker, but the other Slytherins portray more hostile emotions. They seem to be sizing James up, and Harry isn't sure that James can make the cut. His superiority complex and harsh pose are Slytherin enough, but sheer disgust for the situation marks his face. No proper Slytherin would allow their feelings to be so obvious, and the upper classmen know this. They must be thinking about how he's too young and foolish to play Quidditch.

One of their mouths opens in a sneer. Harry notes with a hint of distaste that they have rather bad teeth. "So, Flint." They hit the Slytherin captain on the back in a gesture that, while obviously meant to look friendly, must hurt. "How much do you think Dumbledore had to bribe Snape to get his precious Golden Boy on our team?"

Flint frowns. "Snape told me that he's a really good player."

Now another boy slaps his shoulder. "It's called lying, you dumbass!" Now James's sneer looks more Slytherin. He shakes his head and goes to change into his new uniform.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!" The first boy demands. James ignores him. A second later, James is slammed up against a locker. Freakazoid and Sniffles push close to front, but James ignores them both and glares up at the older boy.

"Knock it off!" Flint shouts, "For God's sake, how am I supposed to explain this to Snape? How do you think this is going to reflect on our team?!" After a moment's pause, the boy releases his hold on James, who casually wipes off his shirt as if he's simply gotten a speck of dirt on it. Seemingly oblivious to the looks he's receiving, he goes to change. When he returns, the others are finishing preparations, as well. Flint is checking a small suit case. He catches James's eye and gestures him over.

"You probably need to have the game explained to you. You also probably need a broom, but you can use the training broom for now; Snape's looking into it. Anyway. You're the Seeker. What you need to do is find the Snitch when it's released onto the field. That." Flint points at a small gold ball with fluttering silver wings. _No duh, _James yawns in the headspace. Harry again finds himself startled by his alters' knowledge. Again, he resolves not to think about it. He tries to pay attention to Flint's lesson, but James already seems to know it all, so he eventually realizes there's no point. The rest of the team seems to be getting rather tired of waiting around, as well.

Finally, Flint finishes. However, he has another surprise in store. Harry's blood goes cold, and even James, for all his Gryffindor bravery, feels a flash of fear.

"Before we can get on the field, I need to warn everyone that Madam Pomfrey wants to see all the Quidditch players tomorrow for a physical exam. Basic stuff, for those of you who've played before: height, weight, general health. Don't stress out about it, she's not going to cut anyone from the team—she just wants to see what she needs to keep an eye on." The rest of the team doesn't care and continues on to the field. James remains frozen.

_I don't think we should continue with this, _Harry says quietly, _They already had a good Seeker, anyway, and it's not like the Slytherins seem to like us much. Besides, you don't really want to help the Slytherins win the House Cup, so I'm sure we can just find another way to practice._

James swallows hard and walks on to the field.

Potter, Harry, and James wait together outside of Madam Pomfrey's office. They're last in line; if something goes wrong, they don't want anyone else to be there to witness it. James has set their mouth into a grim line. He talks to no one, not even Harry. Potter mutters his thanks that James has shut up, but even that doesn't break through to him. For his part, Potter looks about ready to throw up. He's already begged Harry to just pull them off the team, but Harry isn't sure that that's such a great idea. Students from all houses are watching him, waiting for him to screw up. If he does manage to fly well, that will be a point in his favor. If he quits before he's even played in a game, people are sure to notice, and he doubts that it will bode well.

Potter was annoyed with his _stubborn logic, _though he did stop arguing. Harry's glad for that. There's enough noise in his head without Potter griping, right now. He wishes that Petal would stop freaking out. More importantly, he wishes that she would realize that not letting him eat the day of a physical exam isn't going to help the whole "underweight" thing.

_Rocks_, says Potter suddenly, _do you think we could hide rocks on us?_

_ How do you think that would ever go unnoticed? _James sneers. _I'm sure she uses magic to detect our weight._

_ Could we spell ourselves heavier, then? Some sort of reverse levitation spell?_

_ How the hell would we do that, you blubbering fool?_

_ Reverse the levitation spell…? It's worth a shot, isn't it?_

James actually snorts, and the student in front of them, a Ravenclaw, glances back curiously. James smiles weakly before replying to Potter, taking care not to mouth the words as he thinks them. _Sure, sure. And if it goes wrong, then what? We don't even have our wand on us! Do you even _think_, Potter?_

_ I bet Lily could do it._

James falls silent. Harry wonders if that's true. He knows that Lily is great at magic- she's mastered all the charm spells so far, though Harry himself gets them right only sometimes- but is working magic without a wand even possible?

They're the only ones still waiting. The examinations are taking longer than was expected, and Harry is missing dinner. He doesn't mind. The hunger doesn't bother him. Actually, he can't really feel it. Like all other bodily sensations, it's distant and removed. Usually, this is an advantage. It makes him wonder, however, if he has any injuries that he just hasn't been able to feel but that a nurse could easily notice.

_Healing magic, _Potter cuts in, _God, why didn't I think of this before? Screw the weight, they already know you're too light. I'm going to get Lily to heal us._

_Can Lily really do that?_

James gives Harry the most scathing look he can manage. _How do you think we're still alive? _He grudgingly nods at the door Potter left through. _Glad you thought of that. I don't think we have any major wounds, but we probably have a few scars that Lily never bothered to heal._

_ Are scars really worth worrying about?_

James shifts his weight and glances at the wall behind Harry. Now, his crossed arms look more defensive than strong. _They spell things, _he says finally. _We probably shouldn't let anyone see them._

Before Harry can ask about why he doesn't remember this, Potter rushes out with Lily in tow. The eleven year old smiles hesitantly at Harry before slipping into the body. Curious, Harry edges closer to front. He watches as Lily closes her eyes and gently touches her pinkie and thumb together in a modified meditation position. Magic stirs somewhere inside them and washes over there body. It's slow at first. There's a look of intense concentration on Lily's face, and Harry realizes that she's scanning for major injuries.

_We need to hurry, _Potter warns, _Pomfrey is going to call us in soon. _

_ You can't rush her, _James argues. Lily ignores them both. Harry feels the magical warmth concentrating on his thighs, now. Vernin must have stepped on him and left distinct bruises. Or maybe there's a minute fracture Lily didn't think to fix before. It's probably the second option, as Lily spends quite a bit of time there. Potter begins to walk around the headspace in brisk, tight circles. His nerves are contagious. When the door opens, Harry jumps. James just makes very tight fists.

"Potter?" Pomfrey asks. Lily starts. Her mouth twitches upwards into a grimace, and she follows the nurse into the hospital wing. "Alright dear, just take off your shirt and go stand on the scale, please." For a moment, Lily seems shocked. Her face flushes when she remembers that Harry's male. She does as requested, but when the nurse turns her back to get the clipboard, she closes her eyes and lets a surge of magic flow into their back. While the nurse is taking measurements, Lily's unfocused gaze betrays her distraction. Thankfully, Pomfrey doesn't seem to notice the flux of magic.

Madam Pomfrey moves on to checking Harry's general health. Lily goes very still, barely breathing. "Nervous?" the nurse asks. Lily's nod comes just a little later than it should have. Suddenly, the nurse draws in a sharp breath, the air whistling through her teeth. "Oh," she says faintly. "Stay here, alright? I just… need to check something with the headmaster, alright dear?" She hurries off to call Dumbledore. Lily's head has dropped down onto her chest. Her eyes are wide but still.

_Lily! _Potter hisses. She doesn't respond. _Lily, at least heal the other injuries, _he pleads. Slowly, magic courses through their body, touching everything but their back, where Madam Pomfrey had seen the injury. Harry isn't sure if Lily's really doing a good job; she doesn't seem focused on anything, and she won't talk to them. James is white with anxiety, though he's trying to hide it.

The door opens. In walks Headmaster Dumbledore.

_A/N:_

_Makurayami Ookami: Thank you for the reviews! Yes, I suppose Harry does have quite a few alters. He is co-conscious, however (capable of seeing what his alters do without blacking out), so he does have that going for him._


	8. Chapter 8

For a long moment, no one speaks. With a quiet shudder, Lily retreats back into the headspace and disappears. Potter takes over and forces himself to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "Is something wrong, Headmaster?" He asks, forcing innocence into his face.

Somehow, Dumbledore has the gall to smile cheerfully back at him. "Well, that's what we're about to find out." The headmaster lets Pomfrey walk him over to Harry and watches as she gestures towards Harry's back. He makes a lot of "hmmm" and "ah" noises, but says nothing.

_How bad is it?_ Harry wonders.

_I don't know. _Potter is staring straight ahead. By this point, anyone would be nervous. There's no weakness in showing fear. That doesn't stop James from trying to look brave, of course, but he's not doing a very good job of it.

"Pomfrey," Dumbledore finally says, "will you leave us for a moment?" Potter can't see her face, but her agreement is stuttered. He can't bear to turn around until she's gone.

"Headmaster?" He swallows past the lump in his throat. There's a slight trembling in his hands, which he tries to still. Dumbledore offers a half smile, but the man's eyes seem to be turned inward. Potter isn't sure if this is a good or bad sign. Would it be better or worse to interrupt the man before he can reach a conclusion? The suspense is getting to him. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that he can manage is a hoarse croak. He closes his lips tight, but Dumbledore startles.

"Sorry," Dumbledore apologizes, forcing a smile back to his face. "Hm, let us see. Well, Harry. Are you aware of the large scar on your back?"

Potter isn't sure how to answer. People should remember how they got scars, right? But in truth, he's rather clueless. The incidents of physical abuse all blur together, and he doesn't want to describe it wrong and alert the Headmaster to anything. "I'm not sure," he admits. "I've gotten a number of small scars before from silly things, but I doubt that any of those would have caught your attention." He falls silent, hoping that the Headmaster will explain.

Dumbledore reaches out and gently touches the scare. Potter throws himself forwards, whirling around to face the man. At the same moment, Harry feels a burst of sharp pain from around his upper leg. Before he can stop it, there's a rushing sensation in his head. His sight blurs and sensations switch off. He can no longer feel the body because he is no longer in the body. He's watching from a distance as the body falls backwards onto the floor and scoots under a desk, never removing its terrified eyes from a very shocked Dumbledore's face.

_Bruises, _Potter whispers in horror. The child alters doesn't hear. He's still staring intently forwards. Dumbledore shifts his weight, and he leans farther back. Dumbledore takes a step towards him, and his entire body goes limp. He's trembling like a leaf as Dumbledore carefully walks over, but he makes not a single noise.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asks. Bruises doesn't respond. He flinches when Dumbledore reaches out to touch his shoulder, and tears are leaking from the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to so much as whimper. After a moment of hesitation, Dumbledore removes his hand and slowly backs away. Bruises never looks away or relaxes. For his part, Dumbledore seems torn as to how he should be reacting. "Harry?" he asks again.

The world swirls slightly. Harry blinks heavily, eyes remaining closed for seconds at a time. His head is beginning to hurt. His muscles have locked up, and it's a struggle to relax them. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the Headmaster. He nods, the motion making him sick, and grabs hold of the nearest bed railing, pulling himself to his feet. He sways slightly. Black spots appear in front of his vision. It's getting harder, he notes, to recall what just happened. The memory is slipping rapidly away from his conscious, leaving behind only the knowledge that Bruises was out and an intense feeling of fear.

Harry nods again. He's unsure that he can speak. He finds himself swaying back and forth is quick bursts. The motion make him dizzy. _Breathe, Harry, _Potter whispers, and Harry draws in another sharp breath.

Dumbledore looks as if he wants to ask something, but changes his mind. "I'll get Madam Pomfrey to heal you," he says, rubbing a hand down the side of his face in exhaustion, "but I will need to see you in my office tomorrow." After another moment, he leaves. Harry listens to the quiet murmurs that leak under the door. He sits down on one of the beds and waits. When Pomfrey returns, he drinks the potion she gives him and allows her to cast a spell on his back. He puts back on his shirt and stands up to leave.

"Harry." Her tone is sympathetic. "I wanted to make you stay the night. It's a rather severe wound, you know… If you ever need to talk, come see me alright? I'd recommend that you talk to your head of house, but I know that Snape isn't always—take care, Harry." Without turning back, Harry nods. He leaves the hospital wing. He walks back up to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Where have you been?" Draco asks. "The other Quidditch players returned ages ago. You missed dinner, you know. Where are you going?"

Sitting in his bed with the curtains drawn around him isn't enough. He goes into the shower. With his closes still on, he turns the water up as hot as it will go and aims the flow for the far corner. He sits directly under the faucet and closes his eyes. Water splashes down onto his face, burning him. He ignores it. There's a pressure building inside of his head, begging to be let out. With shaking hands, he grabs hold of his hair. Then he's pulling, shaking his head back and forth, slamming his head from his knees to the wall and back again. Strangled gasps echo around the room. He bangs his head hard, and the soap dish falls to the bottom of the shower with a clang. Harry falls silent.

He sits there until the water runs cold. He doesn't worry about using all the hot water up. A normal wizard would just spell the thing to the right temperature. He doesn't worry about being missed. Who would ever care about him? His clothes are soaking wet. He gets out of the shower and stands in front of the sink. He grips the porcelain counter and leans forwards, staring at himself in the mirror. Have there always been such prominent bags under his eyes? He reaches up with his right hand and brushes his bangs off of his forehead. His gaze rests on his scar.

Someone rattles on the doorknob. "You okay in there?" The voice is Blaise's. Harry looks from the door to the toiletries he just knocked onto the floor. Mechanically, he walks over and flushes the toilet. He turns on the sink and picks up the soaps, bottles of shampoo, and tooth brush containers by hand. He turns off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and brushes past Blaise. He goes to bed.

He lays there for hours. He refuses to let his eyes open or to even allow his body to stretch and fidget. Someone tries to shake him, once, and he hears talk of getting the nurse. Someone reasons that he just came from the nurse, and maybe he's depressed because he got cut from the team? Eventually, all noise ceases. Even his head is silent, for once. Harry is glad. He can't stand their taunting. Not tonight.

When sleep claims him, he dreams of shadowed fingers, screaming voices, and pain. He hears someone crying. When he wakes with a start what can't be but an hour later, he realizes that he was the hurting child, but it doesn't make the nightmare any less discomforting. He doesn't fall asleep again.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry isn't sure how much time has passed, but he really wishes that Dumbledore would speak already. If Dumbledore can't handle talking about yesterday, he never should have told Harry to come here. It's not awkward, it's terrifying. Every passing second swells Harry's anxiety until he feels like he's going to burst. Why didn't Dumbledore decide what he was going to say before hand? Does he not realize how hard this is for Harry, or does he just not care?

"Headmaster," Potter speaks up, "I need to study for Potions class. If you're not going to say anything, I should be going now."

"Yes. Yes, of course." Dumbledore sighs and faces Potter. "My dear boy-" His voice seems to fail him. Harry inwardly rolls his eyes. _Drama Queen._

"I don't suppose you've remembered how you got that wound?" Dumbledore asks. Potter shakes his head, so the man continues, "I don't know how to tell you this, but it appears that you were severely abused. And… Well. It's a muggle condition, I don't know much about it, but… Harry, do you know what Multiple Personality Disorder is?" The Headmaster misinterprets the shock on Potter's face. "I'm not saying that you have this! Please don't misunderstand, I'm not an expert…"

It's too late. He's said the magic words. Petal jolts to her feet, almost pushing the chair to the floor. "I do not have multiple personalities." Dumbledore's mouth falls open before he can get a hold of himself. Petal continues, voice low and dark. "I am not a f-cking crazy! And how DARE you accuse my Aunt and Uncle of abusing me! You low life _scum_."

Harry doesn't think that she could pack more scorn into her voice if she tried. Glaring daggers doesn't begin to describe the look that she's giving the man in front of them. Inside, her thoughts are racing, searching for something, anything, that will convince Dumbledore that he's wrong. When she starts reaching for magic, Potter intervenes.

"I'm sorry, sir." He sits back down. "What exactly do you mean by multiple personalities? And severe abuse? Severe? Wouldn't I remember that, sir? Wouldn't someone have noticed? I don't understand. It's just a scar. I'm sorry for overreacting- both yesterday and today- but it's stressful trying to adjust to a new school and having magic." He lets out a small laugh. "Not that it's not amazing, but."

Dumbledore swallows heavily and seems to choose his words carefully. "By multiple personalities, I mean exactly that. I believe that you have alternate personalities inside of you, and I believe one of them just surfaced. If you can remember what they do, that's very good. Your mind isn't completely gone, then. That would be why you don't remember the abuse. And Harry, I have no doubt that you were abused. I'm so sorry."

"I still don't understand, sir." Potter's voice is soft, but Harry hears the venom he's struggling to hide. What does Dumbledore mean, completely gone?

"Perhaps another time, then. I don't think that it would be right to rush this. I don't want to scare you." Dumbledore looks relieved by this excuse. Suddenly, his brow furrows. "Harry? Did you feel, ah, strange when you were sorted?"

"I don't—I don't believe so, sir. I was nervous, yes. If you're asking if I was an alter-" Harry winces slightly at his wording "-I really don't think I was."

"It's possible, though. Very possible… I wonder if perhaps you're not as Slytherin as we thought?"

_That slimy bastard, _Potter shouts, hurt flashing across his face. _What does this man have against Slytherins? They make up a fourth of his school, for God's sake!_

_ That's my phrase, _James smirks. Potter looks at him in surprise, and James tenses. _What, I'm not allowed to front just for the Hell of it?_ Potter shakes his head and moves aside. James closes his eyes and settles into the body. He surveys the room and realizes that Dumbledore is watching him closely.

"Are you Harry's Slytherin alter?"

James's face is almost comical. "Excuse me?! I am not a bloody Slytherin! I'm as far from Slytherin as it gets, thankyouvery much! I am not a snake! I am not evil or a bully or even ambitious! I'm a Gryffindor, you prat!" The indignation in his voice is strong, and what he's doing now can only be described as sulking. Potter bites his lips hard, muffled snorts shaking his frame. James glares at him, and Harry dissolves into laughter.

Dumbledore's eyes widen. "A Gryffindor, you say?" Harry doesn't like the man's smile. "Well, I'm very glad to hear that! I must admit, it does make me weary to think that Harry could be a Slytherin through and through. It would make a great many people very nervous."

_Yeah, _Potter sneers_, people like you. _James just smiles widely. Only Harry feels the slight annoyance reminiscent of _only I can insult him like that, you prick!_

"Really, though, I am very glad to meet you. What is your name?"

"James," James nods. He doesn't miss Dumbledore's surprise. "Yes, like our father. I was named James before we learned about that, but I guess some part of us still remembered." James shrugs. Dumbledore looks to be beside himself with joy.

"It is a real pleasure to meet you, young man! It may be too much to ask, but I wish I could see you more often. You seem very pleasant."

_You've known him for all of five minutes! _Potter rages. James smirks, and Harry backs away inside. James catches his drift and sighs loudly.

"Sorry, Headmaster, but we really do need to be going soon. We don't want people asking unfortunate questions, you understand. Besides, Harry kind of doesn't know about me yet, and I don't plan for him to." Despite Dumbledore's earlier comment about the horrors of losing time, his eyes are twinkling. For show, James lets his head fall to his chest before he moves inside and gestures to Potter.

_All yours, _he mouths_. But try to give him a good show, alright? _Potter rolls his eyes, but reluctantly agrees.

"Sir?" Potter asks, acting disorientated and confused. He shifts on the seat, blinks heavily, and tries to look as if he's deciding to forget something. "Can I please go back to my room now?"

Dumbledore nods and smiles kindly. "Yes, you may."

Potter gets up and walks to the door. He pauses and decides to take a chance. "Can I still go home over the summer, sir?"

Dumbledore fiddles with a lemon drop on his desk. "We'll discuss this later."

_A/N:_

_Apologies for the shorter chapter, but it seemed like a good place to end things._


	10. Chapter 10

Everyone else is studying or watching a game of Wizard Chess between two fifth years. Harrison has already completed most of their homework, and Harry has no interest in Wizard Chess. He's sitting on the rug near the fire and trying to convince himself not to retreat upstairs. Every so often, one of his classmates will shoot him a look before quickly going back to what they were doing before. No one brings up yesterday, and Harry is glad. He notices that the other Quidditch players, when he sees them, won't meet his eyes. They don't seem angry at him anymore, though, and for that, he's glad. He wonders if they believe the rumors flying around. Apparently, some of the children are convinced that Madam Pomfrey found some sort of bogus problem so that Dumbledore could take the opportunity to chew out Harry for being in Slytherin. Draco, in particular, is unafraid to vocally claim that Dumbledore called Harry a disgrace to the Potter name. Harry didn't miss that some of the responses hoped that was true; it turns out that the pure bloods aren't fond of the Potters.

Harry doesn't plan on correcting anyone. Until someone asks him point blank what happened, he will say nothing, and if they do ask, he'll probably lie. He doesn't need to explain himself to any of these people. Really, who would even believe it? Who would believe that the boy who defeated Voldemort was destroyed by his muggle relatives? Who would believe that the Boy Who Lived couldn't survive the muggle world without his mind shattering? Harry doubts that wizards would even understand Multiple Personality Disorder. They're far behind regular people when it comes to technology, and it's not like even most normal people have heard of it to begin with. Harry would never have known about it, either, if Harrison hadn't found a book on it when he was spending yet another lunch in the library.

Harry can still remember the doubt he felt upon reading about the disorder. It was apparently hotly debated with psychologists, something that no one could seem to agree on. The main problem was that some people thought that therapists were just encouraging false memories of abuse so that they could make more money off of their distraught patients. Harry, who had never been in therapy, found that incredibly silly. He'd still been worried. While he knew well that he was being abused, the abuse was the only thing he forgot. He didn't lose time, not really. That had torn him up for years, much as it annoyed his other alters. And now, Dumbledore was saying the same thing. Harry didn't lose time, so it wasn't _real _MPD, was it?

_Stop being so stupid, _Potter mutters. _What else could it be? Do you think you're possessed by something? _His voice turns mocking. _You better not tell me we're the Dark Lord back to haunt you._

Despite himself, Harry laughs. A second year girl shoots him a look, and he smiles apologetically. The nagging idea doesn't leave his head, though, and Potter leaves in frustration. Harry gets up to return to his room when he notices that Draco has drifted away from the crowd. "Potter," he nods, and Harry nods in return. Draco follows him up to his room, and Harry wonders what he wants. He's not going to ask about last night, is he?

No. Draco strikes up a conversation about Quidditch, and when Harry doesn't react negatively, seems content to tell Harry all about his favorite teams. Harry contents himself with listening and soaking in the information. He feels Snake move up behind him and mentally steps back. To his surprise, after Snake adjusts to the situation, he actually begins contributing to the conversation. Harry watches as the two Slytherins grow more comfortable talking and the subject grows beyond just Quidditch teams. Unexpectedly, Harry feels a stab of jealousy.

_Why can't I do that with anyone? Why is there nothing that I can do better than my alters? Why am I even here, if they're so much better than me at everything? _Snake doesn't seem inclined to reply, for which Harry is thankful. Potter would be inclined to put up a fight, and who knows how James would react. None of his alters would be happy about the idea of him leaving. Of course they wouldn't; they're his alters. Aren't they?

Cores aren't supposed to be host. That's what all the books on MPD said. Cores are hidden in the back of the mind, and the system always obeys them. Who's to say that Harry isn't just a hollow replacement, just a conduit for the other alters to act through? The books said that people with MPD are supposed to black out, though. So he's not doing MPD right either way. A freak, even compared to others with the same problem.

"Are you alright?" Draco asks. He's not talking to Harry, of course. Snake had frozen up mid-speech. He's fine now, and the two are chatting again, but shame blankets Harry. There he goes again, screwing up his alters' lives. Some host he is.

Snake and Draco set off for dinner, still talking.

"Oh, Pansy!" Draco breaks off mid speech, "I need to talk to her for a moment." Draco dashes off, and Snake stares after him. Then he snorts and continues on to dinner by himself. He's not paying attention to where he's going. Before he can walk right into a suit of armor, someone grabs his arm.

"Distracted, I see?" Dumbledore asks with a smile. Snake jerks his arm back and glares. Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. "I assume you're not Harry?" He whispers.

"What the hell are you blabbering about?" Snake sputters, face turning a bit purple. "Of course I'm Harry!" Honest confusion leaks to Harry, and Harry feels his stomach drop. Snake doesn't remember them…?

Dumbledore seems just as off put by the situation. "I see." His eyebrows draw together and he tries not to stare. "May I see you in my office, Harry?"

"I'm going to eat dinner," Snake refuses. Now Dumbledore is definitely caught off guard. Harry can feel his gaze on their back as they walk to the Great Hall. When Dumbledore enters a few minutes later, he won't stop glancing at them. Snake is sitting with Draco and Pansy, the three of them griping about McGonagall's obvious preference for Gryffindor's. A couple of upper classmen join in with their own stories, and though no one comments on it, Harry can tell that they're surprised that he's involved. But it isn't him, and he's once again rendered a bystander in his own life.

Dinner ends, and Snake is still the one fronting. Potter joins Harry as he always does in the evenings, but Snake acknowledges neither of them. _What did you do? _Potter asks, and Harry can only shake his head.

_I think Dumbledore wants to see us again, _he says quietly.

Potter's face screws up in anger. _Interfering b-stard. _They watch as Snake gets ready for bed without a touch of fear or the usual panicked rituals. _Should we tell him about us? _

Harry shakes his head. Why not allow a part of themselves to be normal? It doesn't seem to be hurting Snake any. They can handle Dumbledore tomorrow.

_A/N:_

_Special thanks to Amethyst Violet Serenity for the review._

_Narutard180: I'm glad you like it! That's one thing I've always wanted to see more of in MPD stories, alters having their own stories and lives. I guess I eventually just decided to write my own. _

_Ebony: I'm sorry to hear that you find them confusing. Most people with MPD do have at least 10-15 alters, but I can post a list of all of them, if it would help?_

_Lillielle: I'm evil, yes. You already knew this._

_Also, for those who didn't know, Lillielle is writing a HP MPD story, as well. You should check it out! She's my motivation to stop being lazy and update already. :P_


	11. Chapter 11

_You did what? _James snickers.

_I don't see how it's funny, _Potter remarks. _How are we supposed to deal with Snake blacking out? We've never had to worry about anything like that before._

_ Are you kidding me? That's gold. I get Harry creating alters to take abuse or help with school, and I even get him making a Slytherin alter so he can blend in; he doesn't possess Gryffindor bravery, after all. But making said Slytherin alter black out just so he can please the first adult who happened to learn about us? Beautiful._

At least it's put James in a good mood. Even though he won't get to practice Quidditch again until Wednesday, he's fronting just so he can talk to Harry and Potter, something he wouldn't have done before they came to Hogwarts. It's good for him to be here. He even managed to calm down Jay this morning, and she was almost polite during Potions. At least, she didn't glare at anyone or mock any failing potions. She just did her job and left. Admittedly, she took more pride than necessary when Snape accused her of somehow cheating in order to always have working potions, but she is Jay. They're just lucky she hasn't tried to use her potions to poison anyone, yet.

_So, _James drawls, _doesn't Dumbledore want to see us? _

_If he does, he'll have to come get us himself. We can just pretend we didn't know that he asked Snake for help, and he can assume Snake doesn't communicate with the rest of us._

_ Of course, your first idea is to lie your way out of trouble _James sighs dramatically. _Tsk tsk, Potter. Really, I don't see why you have such a problem with the man. Shouldn't we accept him as an ally? Maybe he can help us find somewhere else to stay over the summers. Or maybe he can teach us how to make the pig tail permanent._

_ And you're calling me the evil one! _Potter shakes his head. He checks quickly to make sure no one can see him mouthing a conversation to himself, but this is the History of Magic class. As per usual, everyone is asleep. It's a review day, anyway. That's why not even the Ravenclaws are bothering to try and also why Harrison hasn't been pulled to front. Too much effort.

_I still want to talk to Dumbledore, _James insists.

_I'm sure you do, _Potter grumbles, _he likes you. You're his precious Gryffindor alter! … Look, before you do anything, you should get Harry's permission. _Both alters turn silent as they turn to look at Harry. Harry pretends that he can't hear them. Potter visibly deflates. _Do what you want, _he mutters. For a moment, James seems to doubt himself, but then he nods.

_After Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'll see him._

Dumbledore doesn't seem surprised when James walks into his office, but then, he is a wizard. He nods at James and greets him with, "Hello…?

"James," James nods back, taking a seat. Dumbledore's smile widens.

"Ah yes. It's very nice to see you again, James. Do you control Harry often, then?"

James smirks, though Potter pretends to gag. "I suppose you could say that. I'm a much better Quidditch player than he is, so he's not getting rid of me any time soon. Not now that I've landed us a spot on the team." When Dumbledore praises his accomplishment, James doesn't bother pretending to be modest about it. Potter storms off somewhere, muttering about not wanting to watch this Gryffindor love fest, but Harry doesn't mind it. It's not often that James can be acknowledged for his achievements, after all. He deserves the reward and has every right to be smug, really.

"What jobs do the alters have?" Dumbledore asks. James shrugs and leans back so that the chair is balancing on two legs.

"Well, depends on the alter, obviously. Harry and Potter have hosting duty- basically, you talk to us, you're probably talking to them. Harrison is the nerd. Lily's the magical one; she's great at it. Jay's my sister. She likes Potions, and she hates Slytherins." James pauses for a moment and smirks. Dumbledore looks more pleased by this than he should. "Snake's the one you ran into before. Yesterday, I mean. Not when you first found out- that was Bruises, he takes physical- anyway. Snake, apparently, he's pure Slytherin. Pure git, if you ask me."

"That's a lot of alters! Is it difficult for you, to lose control to them?"

"Well, I am an alter, so I'm probably a bit biased. By I don't mind it, usually. None of us can remember what life was like before we split- er, created alters- so." James shrugs again and lets the chair fall back onto the floor with a resounding thud.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore breathes, seemingly unaware aware that James can hear this comment. He raises his voice and says, "Are there any alters that you don't get along with? You are most certainly a brilliant young Gryffindor, and I can't imagine that you and Snake get along well."

"No, we don't. But I suppose he doesn't know that, now does he? Other than him, I don't really mind anyone. They all serve their purpose, right?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you all get along. And none of them are particularly un-Gryffindor then? None of them… well, I do hope you'll excuse me here, but I know that abuse can change a person. None of your alters are violent?"

"Oh, so that's what you're getting at? Well, the protectors do whatever they view as necessary, but they only come out when Harry really needs them. No future Dark Lords here, if that's what you mean."

Dumbledore laughs. "Oh dear. I'm getting transparent in my old age. Yes, alright. Thank you, James, for being so honest with me. I do hope you don't think I'm needlessly prying. You know, it worries me immensely that one of my students was so hurt. I want to help you to remain safe in the future." Dumbledore's forehead creases, and his eyes suggest sincere worry.

"Don't worry about it," James grins, "We can handle ourselves."

"So I see!" The man shakes his head and changes the topic. "Well, James, how are you liking school here? Are you managing to make friends? It must be hard to meet decent people when everyone thinks that you're a Slytherin."

James scowls. "We were almost friends with Ron Weasley, but he doesn't seem so fond of us at the moment."

"Such a shame," Dumbledore says mournfully, "Ronald seems like a fine young man. His family is wonderful, I'm sure that you would find them the best of support. Perhaps you should try to reach out to him regardless of your House placement? I'm sure that once he sees that you, at least, are of a decent sort, he will gladly befriend you."

"Maybe," James nods, and Harry feels the hope that James is trying to ignore. Again, Harry is struck by guilt. Why doesn't he let his alters have their own friends? He keeps so much from them just by existence.

_Harry, shut up, _James says bluntly. To Dumbledore, he just looks pointedly at the clock. The man laughs.

"I'll let you get back to your studying now. If you ever want to humor an old man, please feel free to visit."

"Maybe," James allows.

"I suppose you'd prefer Weasley," Dumbledore sighs. James just snorts derisively. When he leaves, after a moment of hesitation, he veers towards the Gryffindor common room.

_A/N:_

_mizzrazz72: Don't worry, he'll find out soon enough._

_Kitten in the Shadows: I'm glad you like it! And no, Snake is no longer aware of what the others are doing. His mind just slides over the fact that he has no memory of certain events, so he's not aware that he's missing anything._


	12. Chapter 12

It's not until that Wednesday that James has an opportunity to talk to Ron. He hasn't dared to approach him during meals, and Charms and Potions classes are too segregated. Even with the Gryffindors viewing him in a more positive light, Harry isn't part of their clique, and James never had the chance to talk to Ron alone. Now, though, first year Gryffindors and Slytherins alike again troop down to the Quidditch field for flying lessons. It makes for nice closure, as Quidditch is really what brought them together in the first place, and it's not like James needs to pay attention to the lessons.

When James first tries to talk to Ron, the Gryffindor's eyes flash up to Draco, wondering if Harry was put up to this. His responses are clipped and weary, and his posture is rigid. Everyone is watching them curiously, and he knows it. James tries not to let on that he knows that Ron thinks this is a trick of some sort. It's grating on him to be friendly to someone so openly hostile, though, and his temper begins to frazzle.

Ron searches for ways to escape the conversation. He's concentrating on the broom, now, and James realizes that despite growing up in a wizarding family, Ron really isn't used to flying yet. His grip is wrong, and James doesn't hesitate to tell him this.

"Thanks," Ron says, pulling back slightly. He readjusts his finger positions, though.

"Oh for- Ron, you're acting like I'm going to curse you first chance I get," James gripes.

"You're a Slytherin," Ron says, as if James doesn't already know this. "I think that I have every right to be worried."

For a moment, James just stands there. Then he glances around, a devious smile crossing his face. "There's really nothing to worry about, but I can't explain it here. Can you meet me in private tonight? You can pick the location, just promise to show up." Conflicting emotions play across Ron's face. It's obvious that, despite himself, he wants to know Harry Potter's secret.

"Fine," he finally says, "We'll meet in the trophy room, since we know that it will be unlocked. Midnight, alright?" James nods, and they shake on it. Then James leaves Ron alone. The boy really does need to pay more attention to flying technique.

Potter is about to burst. Ron is late, and what gives James the right to pull stunts like this, anyway? Can he think of no one but himself? This doesn't just affect them; it can lose Slytherin points.

_And I'm supposed to care why?... Really Potter, you should have seen that coming._ The alters glare at each other before Potter hears footsteps. Ignoring James's protests, he crouches down behind one of the trophy cases. A moment later, three people stumble into the room.

"I told you!" Potter hears Granger insist, "Ron, he's just trying to get you in trouble!"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort!" James says. Granger jumps a bit at his reveal and makes a "hmph" noise before turning away. James eyes her and Longbottom. "Ron, thank you for coming, but I think you need a refresher on what the word private means."

"I know what private means! Hermione tried to stop me from sneaking out, and we found Neville locked out of the dorms. The Fat Lady has wandered off and we couldn't get back inside."

"Oh, that does suck. Still doesn't change the fact that I wanted to see you in private." James shakes his head and thinks.

"Use the room next door." Everyone looks at Harry, surprised by the sudden deepening of his voice. Potter ignores them. The door is locked, but that was to be expected. "Alohomora," he whispers. He hears a soft "oh!" of surprise from Hermione, but he doesn't explain himself. He can't tell her that they needed to learn a way out of locked cupboards, after all.

"Ron," he gestures. Ron enters the room, his nerves returning. Potter reluctantly lets James back out, and he follows Ron and shuts the door behind him. Potter casts a quick silencing charm, but Ron doesn't notice. James pushes Potter out of the way.

"So, here's the thing," he begins, "you're probably wondering how Harry Potter ended up in Slytherin. Well, here's the thing. I didn't, not really." He pauses as if to let this sink in. Ron looks like a fish out of water, but he's not the only one gaping.

_What the f-cking hell do you think you're doing?! _Potter explodes.

"Dumbledore wanted me to keep an eye on the Slytherins," James explains to Ron. "He wanted me promoting house unity, too. I don't really like it. I feel like I'm betraying my parents, you know? But I know that I'm not. If I befriend Slytherins, I can help bring them to the light. I can save them and prevent another Dark Lord from ever gaining power. They would never listen to me if I'm from another house. But now the other houses won't listen to me, so…"

For a moment, Ron is silent. When he speaks again, his voice is bursting with admiration. "That's bloody brilliant! That must be awful though, being forced to live with a bunch of snakes."

"They do tend to shed a lot," Potter mutters. He's going to strangle James!

Louder, James replies, "it really is! They're all so smug all the time. Well, the pure bloods are, at least. Draco's the worst of the lot, him and his dumb mooks. He's my dorm mate, of all people."

Ron sucks in a breath. "You haven't strangled him yet?"

"Didn't we just go over this? I'm not really a Slytherin!" Ron has to muffle his snorts, and they exit the room grinning. Hermione glares at them, but Neville looks like he's going to have a nervous breakdown.

"Do you hear that?" he asks anxiously. Potter draws closer to front.

"Filch," he hisses. He gestures to the others, and they all scurry through the second doorway and away from the voice. They creep down an armor filled hallway. Potter strains his ears and hears footsteps behind him. Filch has no reason to know that anyone is around, though, so they should be fine.

Neville panics and tries to run. He trips and knocks down a suit of armor, resulting in enough clanging and crashing to wake the whole castle. Potter curses himself even as he sprints ahead, not checking to see if the others can keep up. The panic converts into speed as Freakazoid joins him. They shoot through corridor after corridor, finally ducking past a tapestry into a small passageway. Near the opposite exit is the Charms classroom. It's far enough away from the trophy room that Potter relaxes and finally remembers the others. With baited breath, he creeps back to the edge of the passage. When Ron and Hermione dart past, he stops them and shows them through. Neville takes another minute to show up, and then the entire group sets about reaching their dorm rooms again.

Of course, not a minute passes before Peeves catches site of them and yells for Filch. Cursing under his breath, Potter runs to the end of the corridor, barely avoiding slamming into a door. "Alohomora!" he whispers and ducks inside. The others follow him through, and they shut the door behind them. To their relief, when Filch enters the hallway seconds later, Peeves will reveal nothing, and Filch storms off in a huff. Potter takes a deep breath of relief.

"_What_, Neville?" Potter hears Ron groan. Turning towards the pair reveals the source of Neville's fear: a massive three headed dog. Soft growls built up in its throat; they caught it by surprise, but it's catching on fast. Freakazoid slams into the body before Potter can finish processing the situation, and he opens the door and pulls Ron through by the back of his shirt. The moment that he notices Hermione and Neville out, he shuts the door. Magic flows through him, locking it tightly, but he's never been one to take chances.

"What are you doing?" he barks to the still shocked children, "Get back to bed!" Hermione doesn't need a second reminder. She darts off towards the Gryffindor dorm, and the other two quickly follow her. Freakazoid stays a moment longer to make sure that door is holding. When he's positive that they haven't just released a monster on the school, he walks briskly back to the Slytherin dorms and slips into bed before slipping from consciousness.

_I will kill you, _are the first words out of Potter's mouth. _James, you are a dead man!_

_Excuse me?_ James has the gall to act insulted. _All I did was make a new friend! I found out what was in the Forbidden Corridor, too, so props to me._

_You could have gotten us killed, you-!_

_It was on a trapdoor. _ Potter falls silent and looks at Harry. Harry repeats himself and adds, _I bet it was guarding the package Hagrid got. Hogwarts is the only place safer than Gringots, remember?_

_See? Harry doesn't care, _James brags.

_He should care, considering we could have died._ When Harry fails to react, Potter tries to hide his worry. _What about the other students whose lives we risked?_

_We didn't do it on purpose… Wipe that smirk off your face James- yes, you are smirking. It was still a stupid idea. _Harry sighs. _Whatever. Let's just go to bed._

Silence descends on the alters.

_I'm still going to kill him._


	13. Chapter 13

School falls into a familiar haze. James and Ron take to sitting with each other at the Gryffindor table once or twice a week, much as it angers the Slytherins. Snake strives to keep up their reputation in his house, unaware of why everyone is frustrated in the first place. Jay is infinitely less snarky now that the Gryffindors accept her, and Potions is a breeze. Likewise, with Lily's help, Charms and Transfiguration come effortlessly, and Harrison manages to keep with the curve in History of Magic. Potter barely has to worry. Harry isn't needed.

Before he knows it, October is ending. It's All Hallow's Eve, and no one can sit still throughout the day. Harry is confused by their excitement. He had gotten the impression that Halloween was about going door to door and getting candy, but he doubts that the teachers are going to hand out candy. Have the books left out something?

At dinner time, there's another great feast. Harry has to admit that, if nothing else, the great hall is decorated spectacularly. He especially likes the jack-o-lanterns, but the whole room has an appropriately spooky atmosphere. The ghosts are joining the students in their celebration, and spirits are high. He's sitting at the Slytherin table because he figured that tonight, at least, he should be with his own house, but James and Ron agreed to meet at the end of the Hufflepuff table to chat when they finish eating. The food is good, too. Harry had never had good food before he came to Hogwarts, and though part of him (usually literally a part named Petal, but not always) warns him against getting used to eating this much, tonight he lets himself relax and enjoy it.

Draco has just convinced Harry to try some fancy sort of dessert when their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, comes barreling through the doors with a pasty white face indicating terror. Potter and Freakazoid edge closer to hear what he's blabbering about: "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you might want to know." Freakazoid's halfway to the door before the crowd erupts into panic. Dumbledore instructs everyone to remain calm and return to their dorm rooms, but hysteria is slowly spreading. Trolls must be rather horrible.

_Wait! _James hisses. Freakazoid ignores him and blocks James's attempt to take the body. _WAIT! _James yells. _Harry, we have to stop!_

_Are you out of your mind? _Potter turns on him. _I know that Gryffindors are stupid in their bravery, but we can't do anything about a troll?_

_Can we do anything about a girl currently crying alone in the bathroom and not aware that she needs to get to safety?_

Seeing Potter's blank face, Harry explains_, he and Ron were insulting Hermione during Charms today because she mastered all the spells so quickly. Calling her a friendless loser, that sort of thing. Well, it was mainly Ron doing it, but we didn't do much to stop it, and she ran off in tears. I guess James noticed that she wasn't at dinner?_

James has the decency to respond to Potter's scathing glare with a sheepish look. Recovering quickly, he insists, _we need to go help her. Look! There's Ron. He can help._ Before Potter can protest, James snakes his way through the crowd and grabs his friend's arm. "Ron! Hermione's off crying in the bathroom's, right? That's what Parvati said. She won't know about the troll." The hesitation on Ron's face makes James uneasy. "We can't just leave her there."

"Oh, fine," Ron snaps. James sighs in relief, though Ron's reluctant answer doesn't soothe Potter's agitation. The two boys duck away from the other students and sneak into a side corridor. Footsteps sound behind them, and Ron turns pale. "Percy!" he hisses, pulling James behind a large stone griffin. However, it's Snape, not Percy, who briskly walks through and disappears around a corner. "Why isn't he in the basement with the other teachers?" Ron asks, baffled. James shrugs.

"Listen to that," Freakazoid interjects. "Footsteps! Must be some big feet."

Big feet indeed! The troll emerges from an adjacent hall, and Harry realizes why everyone was so frightened. It's a horrifying site. More than twice his height, the troll is thick and lumpy. Its long arms trail a wooden club, and the stench that follows it makes Harry gag. It doesn't notice them, and Harry remembers reading that trolls are stupid. It enters a room with the key still in the lock. It crosses Harry's mind that they could just lock it inside and be done with the thing.

"That's the girl's bathroom." Freakazoid's voice is grim. Without waiting for Ron, he abandons their hiding spot and enters the bathroom. Cursing under his breath, Ron follows. The boys are met with quite a sight. The troll is approaching Hermione, who's currently pressed up against a wall and looks ready to faint. "Distract it!" Freakazoid demands. Without thinking, he grabs a faucet that was torn from the wall and flings at the troll with as much force as he can muster. The troll doesn't seem hurt, but it does pause and turn in his direction. After a moment's hesitation, it comes to club him to death, instead.

"Oy, pea brain!" Ron hollers from across the chamber. He throws a metal pipe at the troll's shoulder. Again, the impact causes no damage, but the troll dutifully turns and advances towards Ron.

"Run!" Freakazoid yells to Hermione, but she's petrified with fear. The troll turns to Freakazoid with a glower on its snout. The noise seems to be driving it insane, and it charges. Freakazoid, acting purely on instinct, charges back, screaming as he does.

James is screaming, as well. _Lily! Lily Lily Lily Lily get out here we need you __**Lily**__! _The troll is upon them. Lily stares up in terror. She blurts the first thing that enters her mind, the same spell they had been taught that morning. "Wingardium Levoisa!" Magic explodes out of her in a quick burst. Likely, she was aiming for the troll's club, but the entire troll smashes up against the ceiling. The girl squeaks in panic, and the troll crashes back down onto the floor. Freakazoid takes no chances.

"Wingardium Levoisa," he repeats. Nothing happens. Dazed, Lily joins him, and the club lifts above the troll's head. _Just drop it, _Freakazoid tells her, and she obeys. If the troll wasn't out cold before, he is now.

"Is it—dead?" Hermione breathes. Freakazoid shakes his head and lifts a finger to his lips. A door slams, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell enter the room. Quirrell, upon seeing the troll, sits on a toilet and clutches his heart, but McGonagall and Snape have fury all over their faces. While Snape is too busy checking the troll to give lectures, McGonagall is less preoccupied.

"What on earth were you thinking of? You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?" Her eyes rest on Harry, and there's murder in them. Snape is staring at him, as well, and he wants to sink into the floor.

Defiantly, Freakazoid raises his chin and meets their eyes in turn. Before he can say anything unfortunate, a voice pipes up from the shadows. "Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione manages to struggle to her feet. "I was using the restroom when the troll came. I didn't even know one was loose. I thought that maybe I could deal with it on my own because I've read so much about them, but I couldn't. I guess they noticed me gone or heard the screaming, somehow. They saved my life. It was about to kill me, before they came in..." Her voice trails off, and she sinks back to the floor as the situation again overwhelms her.

"Well—in that case…" Professor McGonagall stares at the three of them, not knowing what to say. Her eyes again fall on Harry. "Potter, why did you notice Granger's absence?"

"I didn't," Potter quickly fibs, "but I did notice Ron leaving the group to help her, and I couldn't leave the two of them to get hurt."

"Twenty points from Slytherin for not getting an adult," McGonagall proclaims. "Return to your dorms at once." She sweeps out of the room, expecting to be followed. Shocked, the three teenagers trail after her, both Ron and Hermione sending Potter pitying looks. Before Potter closes the door behind him, he glances back at Snape's stiff form. Their eyes meet. The look is revealing. Snape turns away, but Potter has learned a valuable lesson.

This is what it means to be a Slytherin.

_A/N:_

_Thanks to twin1 and others for reviewing!_


	14. Chapter 14

"Harry?" Draco, who had been previously talking to Potter, pauses mid speech and glares up at the intruder. Potter smiles at Hermione, who smiles nervously back. She gestures towards the seat next to Potter. "Can I sit here?"

"This the Slytherin table!" Draco protests.

"Yes, I noticed." Hermione rolls her eyes and looks hopefully at Potter.

"Is that allowed?"

Hermione shrugs. "They never said that it wasn't. Besides, I've seen the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws intermingling before."

"That's why they aren't Slytherin," Draco mutters, but Hermione has already sat down. She carefully places her books where they won't get food on them before preparing herself breakfast.

"Why aren't you with Ron?" Potter asks. "He was there, as well."

Hermione goes still for a moment before shrugging. "He's still a twat," she informs him, "though less so now. Besides, I wanted to see you."

"We could start meeting in the library," Potter tells her, shooting a weary glance at the other Slytherins. None of them look very happy with his unexpected guest. Thankfully, Hermione seems to love his suggestion. They chat a bit longer before Hermione excuses herself so that she can get to Charms early. Potter watches her go before he turns back to Draco. He's not surprised to be met with a glare.

"What was that all about?" Draco whines. Potter shrugs, not in the mood, and continues to eat.

Their last class before the day ends is Transfiguration, so it's Lily who finds herself wandering the library in a search for Hermione. She finds the witch tucked into a corner, pouring furiously over a book. Lily is reminded of Harrison, though Hermione seems more sociable. She may be a bit awkward, true, but she's not visibly Autistic, which is always a point in her favor. Harrison has the bad habit of walking off in the middle of a conversation, and Lily doesn't know what she would do if Hermione did that to her.

"Hermione?" Lily asks. Hermione starts, knocking a pile of books from the table to the floor. Lily winces at the crash and has to dig her nails into her palm to prevent herself from levitating the books back up into a stack. Instead, she kneels down on the floor and helps Hermione pick them up by hand. Hermione thanks her, and the two girls sit down together. Lily tries her best not to fidget as Hermione book marks her book and sets it aside. She hopes that her pose is masculine enough.

"Is Ron treating you better?" Lily cautiously asks. Hermione makes an exasperated sigh.

"I suppose," she says glumly. "He hasn't been teasing me anymore, at least." She shakes her head impatiently, curls falling in front of her face. She brushes them behind her ear with a grimace. Lily watches in fascination, almost missing what Hermione says next. "How are the Slytherins treating you?"

"Oh." Lily's face turns red. She isn't quite sure. Inside, James shakes his head at her, but Potter is shrugging. "Well enough, I suppose."

Hermione eyes her critically. "Are you alright, Harry? You seem a bit—"

Heat floods Lily's face. She's sure that she looks like a tomato. "I'm just tired," she mutters. Maybe she shouldn't be the one to do this. Hermione doesn't look very convinced, but what else can Lily say? At this point, if she switches, won't Hermione notice the change? Why does she have to be so observant?

To Lily's relief, it's school work that Hermione begins discussing. Likely, Hermione doesn't know if they have anything else in common. That's fine with Lily. School isn't necessarily her thing, but she can keep up when magic is involved. Soon, the two are happily discussing spells.

After that, Lily and Hermione make an effort to make up once or twice a week. Ron often joins them, though he refuses to meet in the library. With both Common Rooms closed to at least one of them, they have to get a bit more creative with their locations. If they can't meet in the Great Hall for fear of unwanted attention, they may meet on the Quidditch grounds or in an empty classroom. As often as not, they just wander the halls together.

There's only one problem, but it's a rather pressing problem. The first time that Ron met with Lily and Hermione in the library, he had very quickly grown bored by the topic at hand. When Hermione had become annoyed with his impatience, he had responded by mocking her nerdiness. Both had expected Harry to back them up, and Lily quickly discovered that attempting to play peace maker wasn't going to work. Ron didn't understand how "Harry" could act so differently around Hermione, but he griped that if a crush was going to turn "Harry" into a wuss then maybe he should just let them be.

James had fronted for the next meeting with Ron. That time, it was Hermione who grew confused and irritated. Calling James out on his rude behavior had only won her an even ruder remark, and she left in a huff. Ron had found the whole thing hilarious, but Lily had been livid that James was scaring off her friend. Potter had tried to stand in as a neutral force, but he quickly bored of Ron and Hermione, neither of whom seemed fond of him.

Finally, it's Harry who finds himself stuck with trying to handle the two students. For the most part, it works. As long as Lily stays close to front, he can hold an intelligent conversation with Hermione, and James can quickly trade barbs with Ron. However, it's taxing for the three of them to switch so rapidly, and Harry often returns to his dorm with a terrible headache. Hermione still gets annoyed at the things that James carelessly says, and Ron frequently teases Harry for his "crush." Harry almost wonders if having friends is worth the hassle. He doesn't really like any of his classmates. He doesn't trust any of them, and he doesn't understand how they can be so light hearted about everything. In truth, he's almost jealous of how innocent they are, and the anger sends him reeling.

Because this is Harry's life, and nothing good ever stays good for long, Petal quickly angers at Harry's new social life. He doesn't deserve friends, she claims, and she settles on a suitable punishment. If he meets with his friends, he loses a meal for the day. Every additional comment outside of the meeting loses him additional foods. Somehow, Petal always knows exactly how many calories Harry is consuming, and she's very careful about giving him just enough to keep his appearance fine. Anything more than that, though, is increasingly hard for Harry to earn.

Harry doesn't care.

Life settles into a manageable pattern. Harry wakes up. Petal skips breakfast. Jay takes Potions. Harrison takes History of Magic. Potter or Snake eats lunch with Draco. Harry and Lily struggle through Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry, Lily, and James talk with Ron and Hermione. Snake eats dinner with Draco. Potter and Lily avoid Draco and do homework. Harry goes to sleep and hopes that the nightmares don't keep him up all night. The next day, the pattern repeats, save that the classes, and, by extent, the alters taking them, change. It's a complicated dance, but Harry doesn't mind. No matter how frequently or blatantly he switches, no one will notice. Harry is invisible, and it's just the way he likes it.

_A/N: Sorry for the longer than usual break between chapters!_


	15. Chapter 15

"Why are you always with those Gryffindors?" Draco demands, dropping his books onto the table in front of Potter. Potter pauses and wonders if it would be worth it to go up to his room under the claim of needing no distractions until he finishes the Potions Essay that's due tomorrow. His parchment betrays how long his essay has already grown, and he rarely talks to Draco after dinner. He decides not to risk it.

"I don't mind them," he shrugs. "They helped me to defeat the troll, so I decided they deserved at least a little respect."

"But they're _Gryffindors._" Draco couldn't sound more disgusted if he tried. Potter sighs and puts down his quill, turning slightly on the deep green couch so that he's facing the other boy.

"Yes, they are, though Hermione could easily be a Ravenclaw. She's incredibly smart, and I enjoy discussing things with her. She has a unique world view."

"And Weasley?"

Potter isn't sure how to answer. In truth, he's not as fond of Ron. It has nothing to do with the boy's social status- that would be laughably hypocritical- and everything to do with the boy's attitude. It may be that Potter can't relate to the not-yet-teenager when he himself has been fifteen for months. He can't afford the weakness of a young age, after all.

Draco takes the silence as confirmation that Potter shares his opinion of Weasley. "If you don't like him, why do you waste so much time on him? You have a whole house full of people who would be far better company!"

Potter's sure that Draco would just love to be able to tote them around as a pet, but he can't exactly say that out loud. Unease bubbles up within him, and he closes his eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling dizzy. It isn't until his head takes on an arrogant lift and his eyes open that he realizes why.

"Really, Draco," his voice drawls, "I would have thought you, of all people, would have figured it out by now. Which family is a known blood traitor with wonderful public relations with so called light wizards?" Draco's face takes on a pink tint, but Snake pretends not to notice. "The Weasleys, of course! And what family would the wizarding world want to see their boy hero on good terms with?"

"Brilliant," Draco whispers. His face flushes deeper, but he quickly composes himself. "So you're aiming for good publicity, then? You just want to fool the wizarding world into thinking that you're the perfect little Boy-Who-Lived?"

"I don't know how I got into Slytherin!" Snake mock whimpers, "I'm such a good kid! See? Even my Mudblood and blood traitor- whoops! Meant muggle and light wizard- friends agree!"

Now Draco is laughing. He pats Snake hard on the back, mirth breaking through his usual stoic act. "I knew I liked you a reason!" He proclaims. "Just wait until I tell Father about this. I told him that you were on our side."

Snake smirks and accepts the praise. Potter watches with baited breath. Snake can't hear the whispered words of Jay, who had been close to help with Potions homework.

_I will destroy you._

James returns from afternoon Quidditch practice and collapses onto the Slytherin couch with a grimace. His legs hurt, but he's not happy about his Common Room. _I hate green, _he grumbles, brushing a piece of green lint off of his cloak. After a moment's thought, and despite the chilling weather, he sheds the cloak in his room before going to meet Hermione and Ron. As he leaves, Draco shoots a smirk his way, and James just barely manages not to glare back.

They're down by the kitchen today. Hermione and Ron are already waiting for him, though they're maintaining a good distance from each other. James grins at Ron and shoots a nod in Hermione's direction. She groans in irritation, already seeing that today is going to be a Ron day. James ignores her. It's not his fault that Potter doesn't bother to front on weekends and that Harry never fronts without him.

"How was practice?"

"Pretty decent," James says as he positions himself next to Ron against the wall. "Flint went over our strategies today, and we got a good practice in."

"Do they cheat?"

"When do Slytherins not cheat?" James snorts. "Well, they don't cheat during practice, but all of their emergency game plans seem to involve smashing other players into the polls."

It's a slight exaggeration, but it's not like Ron will care. They both know that Slytherins don't have an honest bone in their body.

"I wonder if you could tell Wood" the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, James knows- "about the Slytherin plans."

"Oh, of all the-!" Hermione cries, pushing herself off the wall and whirling around to face the boys. James had almost forgotten that she was there. "Do you not see how hypocritical that is?" At Ron's blank look, she elaborates. "You're berating the Slytherins from cheating, but here you are, asking Harry to cheat for Gryffindor! And you!" She turns her attention to James. "How can you say such things about your own house?"

James realizes that she actually expects an answer. "Look," he gripes, "I have nothing against Slytherins, okay? Really. Ron's a Gryffindor, though, and you know how intense house rivalries are. I can't just sit here and brag about our Quidditch team. It just wouldn't be cool. I wasn't really going to tell him any of the plans. It was just a joke, really, Hermione. Besides, no harm, no foul. It's not like any of them are around to hear it." He's lying out of his ass, but she doesn't have to know that.

She doesn't seem inclined to believe him. Her arms are crossed across her chest, and her nose is pointed up in righteous indignation. If James didn't want to pacify her, he would laugh.

"I won't do it again, okay?" James allows his shoulders to fall forwards in defeat, and he glances in Ron's direction as if pleading with him.

"Yeah, 'Mione," Ron grumbles, "we were just having some fun."

"Well, it's not the kind of fun I want to have. I'm going to do my Herbology homework." Hermione says, storming away without a glance back. Ron pales, and James wonders if he's still relying on Hermione for homework help. Maybe he should offer to help him, later. Lily wouldn't mind helping out a friend, right?

For now, James has other things to worry about. "What a party killer."

Ron nods his agreement. "It's not like you were offering to blow the Slytherin games," he says. "We were just having fun! I don't know what got her panties in a twist." He glares in the direction Hermione left in. James laughs.

"Come on. We have better things to do, especially now that the little prude is gone."

Ron grins and follows James to the green house. Who will really care if they charm Ron's plant into growing just a little greener and taller than it had before? It isn't his fault that his partner keeps forgetting to water it.

The next evening, Lily refuses to help with their homework until James has completely disappeared from front. She seeks out Hermione and practically begs for her forgiveness. She avoids Draco like the plague and is as meticulous as possible in the Herbology homework, as if that will somehow make up for helping James to cheat. Potter, though no happier with Ron, thinks she's going overboard. Harry's just relieved that she isn't upsetting anyone else.

James and Jay won't shut up about Slytherin. They're smart enough to keep their trash talk away from their house mates, but even Draco's heard the rumors that Dumbledore only placed Harry in Slytherin to spy on them. They've all seen the glares leveled at them whenever they're in a mixed house setting. Not everyone blames them, to Harry's relief, but his presence seems to be causing the opposite of house unity. The Slytherins who tend to follow Draco around argue that the other houses are just trying to turn them against their house mate, and at least one hex has been thrown over the issue. It annoys James, Jay, Potter, and Snake to no end, though they all have their own unique take on the situation. Of course, they never shut up about it.

Everything that Harry has ever read on MPD advises that the host learn to love all of their alters, but now he wonders if an argument could be made for strangling them as a loving act.

_A/N:_

_ Thanks to Kine X and supernlp for the reviews!_

_Anon: While Snape will eventually find out about Harry's DID, that won't happen for quite some time. DID is made to remain hidden, after all, and Snape has plenty of prejudices in the way._


	16. Chapter 16

"Potter!"

Potter turns around, but it's only Draco. He probably wants to talk to Snake. They have little homework that night, and Ron and Hermione are off doing who knows what, so Potter doesn't see why that shouldn't happen.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Snake asks, oblivious to the time that's passed since he was last aware. Draco shrugs in response, catching up and meeting Snake's pace.

"I'm so bored," he complains, "there's never anything fun to do around here!"

"That's not my problem!" Snake snorts. "Besides, there are plenty of cool things around Hogwarts. It's a school of magic, for God's sake! You just don't take advantage of the cool things."

"Like what?" Draco demands. Snake shrugs, but there's a gleeful malice on his face.

"I don't know. Like giant three headed dogs hidden in the forbidden corridor on the third floor, I suppose. Though maybe you're already used to such things?" Snake keeps walking, leaving a shocked Draco alone in the middle of the hallway. Draco's mouth is hanging open- it's very undignified- and Snake snickers to himself.

_What the hell are you doing?! _Potter demands, but of course Snake doesn't answer. _How do you even know that?! _Does Snake have more access to their memories than Potter had assumed? How is that possible? Potter turns to Harry to demand an explanation, but his host is already shaking his head.

_I have no idea. But we have to solve this mess before we can even think about questioning the cause._

With dread, Potter turns his attention to Snake. Draco has again caught up, but his sputtering isn't yet intelligible. Finally, Draco gulps down a breath and manages to cry, "how do you know that?! Are you trying to pull one on me, Potter?"

"Now why would I do that?" At Draco's look, Snake sighs dramatically. "No, Malfoy, I'm not bluffing. I found it after meeting Ron in private for the first time. I told you, Gryffindors are the strongest magnets for trouble that I've ever seen."

"That git knows about this, too?"

Snake relishes the hurt in Draco's voice. "Yeap. I believe Granger and Longbottom were there, as well. You probably shouldn't tell anyone, though. It's a secret." Snake winks. Draco huffs, but being let in on this secret seems to soothe him.

"I bet it's that oaf Hagrid's pet," Draco claims, trying to pretend it's not a big deal. Snake shoves him slightly to the side.

"As if. I bet it's there to eat Death Eaters, or something."

Draco shoves him back with more force than necessary, and Snake stumbles. He shoots Draco an annoyed glare, not noticing the fire in his friend's eyes.

XXXXX

Harry has no luck finding out what Snake does and doesn't know because the moment that they enter the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the alter disappears. James drifts up to take his place. In response to Harry's surprise, James explains, _Lily's still upset. _Then he turns his attention to Quirrell, the DADA teacher, and will say nothing more until the lesson has started.

As per the instructions, James pairs up with a Hufflepuff. "Hey," he nods, but the boy refuses to meet his eyes. The Hufflepuff seems twitchy and nervous. He keeps darting glances at Quirrell, as if he's waiting for the teacher to notice and allow him to work with someone else. James is confused. He thought that the Hufflepuffs were alright with the occasional Slytherin.

"T-t-today-y," Quirrell stutters, "we w-will b-b-be practicing-g-g the Kn-n-nock Back j-jinx-x-x." The Hufflepuff goes stiff. His eyes widen to a comical degree, and he grips his wand with shaking fingers.

"Are you okay?" James whispers. The Hufflepuff swings his wand up and points it him, shaking harder.

"Don't talk to me," he stammers. James's smile freezes on his face. He knows that the student can't hit him with any spells- he's shaking too hard to aim, after all- and that even if he was hit, the spell would be too weak to do much of anything, but he doesn't understand why the student is acting like this. He knows that the Gryffindors aren't necessarily okay with him, but he didn't realize that he had a fearsome reputation among the Hufflepuffs.

He needs to do something, so he slowly nods. "I will have to perform the jinx on you like the Professor told us to," James warns, "but you can try it first, if you'd like."

Still pale, the boy nods. He copies the hand motions they were just taught, and manages to whimper, "Flipendo." Nothing happens. No matter how many times the boy tries, he can't get the spell to work. Around them, other students have only slightly better luck. At best, the recipient of the jinx is stumbling back a step or two.

"Switch?" Quirrell asks almost apologetically. James wonders how such a wimp ever managed to become their teacher in such a serious subject. He takes up the correct stance and stares his partner down.

"Flipendo," James says, purposefully dipping his wand too low. Relief shines on his partner's face when nothing happens. James tries another few times, always making the most minor of mistakes, before finally allowing the jinx to take small effect. He laughs a bit at the boy's terrified look, but even the Hufflepuff has to laugh at himself after he's picked himself up off the floor after falling onto his backside.

"I'm Harry, by the way," James lies after shaking his partner's hand.

The boy nods slowly and smiles back with slightly pink cheeks. "Justin. Justin Flinch-Fletchey. Even I know who you are, Harry. Everyone does."

Quirrell makes a timid "ahem" sound, and everyone strolls back to their seats.

_Justin. He's a muggle born, isn't he? _James frowns. Harry shrugs. He's never known the blood status of anyone, and he doesn't care to start learning now. One of his classmates could have unicorn blood for all that it affects him.

_That would explain it, _James continues. _A muggle born wouldn't understand our past as well, so he'd be more inclined to believe the rumors that we're evil. Especially since some of those rumors are that we hate muggle borns, which is silly, considering that we've already befriended one._

_You were nice enough to him, _Harry muses, _maybe he can tell others that we're not so bad._

_Of course I was,_ James laughs. _We're not all evil, Harry. _His grin is light hearted when he returns to listening to the lecture. He no longer believes that his others are the scum of the earth, even if he does despise everything that Snake stands for.

He misses the dark look in his host's eyes. When Harry slips away, James is too busy watching the proper way to cast the jinx to notice.

XXXXX

The week passes in a flash. It's their last class Friday, and Harry is exhausted. He never dreamed that teachers could assign so much homework is so short a period of time! Now he and Lily are in Herbology, and Harry is grateful that this is one of the classes that Slytherin shares with no one. He's tired of dealing with other people. His fellow Slytherins are too busy whining about being reduced to gardeners to bother him right now.

Lily is more dejected than usual, and Harry catches her eyeing Ron's plant. Though she tries to forget about it, she seems more anxious. She's as jumpy as she was back in primary school. When someone brushes shoulders with her, she apologizes so profusely that Harry has to take over to keep her from having a panic attack. He should probably just remain in front, but he doesn't know the first thing about gardening, though he supposes that he would be in decent company.

"How did you manage to kill it again?!" he hears Blaise frantically whisper to Nott. "Dang it, I can't keep exchanging the plants, Professor Sprout might notice!"

Lily drops her potted plant, but she manages to spell it to hover in her hands as if she only loosened her grip. Even Draco doesn't notice, but she didn't expect him to. Even if he's supposed to be their partner, he realized early on that she could handle it without him, and he's currently talking with Crabbe and Goyle. She doesn't care, as he probably would manage to kill their plant.

She stares at Blaise, torn. Harry notices her concern. _I thought you didn't want to spell someone's plant back to health ever again? _

_I don't, _Lily answers, but she doesn't look away.

_Right. _Harry laughs, but when it looks like she's going to turn away, he frowns. _Well, go on, then._

_It's cheating… _she whispers.

_How? You're just helping them out. Sprout lets people receive help from their classmates. This isn't like with Ron, where you're helping out someone from a different house who didn't even ask for help so much as just assumed you would. This is offering assistance._

_Houses are silly, _Lily laughs uneasily, but she slowly makes her way over to Blaise. Nott glares at her, but she doesn't mind. He's just sulking because she can see evidence of his failure in the form of their wilted plant.

"Do you need any help?" she asks lowly, shooting a glance in Sprout's direction.

"You think you can fix this?" Blaise gestures hopelessly to the plant. He looks surprised when Lily nods, but he hands it over dutifully. "Have at it."

After rechecking that Sprout is indeed preoccupied with yelling at Pansy for do her Charms homework instead of working, Lily releases a bit of magic into the plant. She's a bit worried that it's already dead, in which case there's nothing she can do, but after a few seconds, some color returns to the leaves. Blaise and Nott watch in amazement as it slowly perks up.

"I can't do much more for you," Lily whispers. It's true, though not because her magic has been exhausted. She doesn't want the changes to be too obvious because she doesn't want any of them to get into trouble. Blaise doesn't seem to mind.

"Wow, Potter," he whistles, "that's pretty good. How did you do that?"

Lily shrugs uneasily and stares at the floor, blushing. After a moment, Blaise changes the subject.

"You're playing in the Quidditch game tomorrow, right?" Lily nods, still looking down. She doesn't see Blaise grin.

"We'll be watching, okay? Make sure to win the game for us; we need to slaughter the Gryffindors and take the House Cup again!" Nott cheers beside him, which receives a glare from Sprout and a curious glance from Draco.

"I-" Lily doesn't know what to say, so she mutters, "I need to go back to work. Bye." She darts away, cheeks turning red. She doesn't see that Blaise's eyes follow her.

_A/N:_

_ Thanks to Kine X, yuiop, and all else who reviewed!_

_ Lillielle: Drat. You sure? XD Glad you like it!_

_ Supernlp: Thank you. I'm glad that there is a good balance of the serious and humor._

_ Sweetie: There are younger alters in Harry's system, but they need safety in order to front. When Harry knows that someone else is around to keep an eye on them, then they'll be able to come out._


	17. Chapter 17

The crowds are cheering loudly, and James has never felt so alive. The wind whips through his hair, and excitement keeps his body feeling alert and slightly on edge as he scans the field below him for the flash of gold that will reveal the location of the golden snitch. He tries not to glance towards the top row where he knows that his Gryffindor friends are sitting. None of them are openly cheering for him- Gryffindors, in fact, prefer to cheer on any team but Slytherin even if that means sealing their own doom in the championship, and it's the Gryffindors the Slytherins are currently playing against-but James knows that Ron and Hermione still want him to do well. He hopes no one can see the silly grin stretching across his face.

For a moment, James tunes in to Lee Jordan's play by play commentary of the game. When he realizes that the comments are more akin to gossip, he shakes his head and resumes dedicating all of his attention to finding the snitch. Below him, the Gryffindor seeker flies about aimlessly. James wonders what their plan is. He was advised to stay away from the bulk of the game until he caught site of the snitch; otherwise, he was likely to be hit with a bludger, and James has no intention of that happening!

James is beginning to get restless when he glances a hint of gold zip past one of the chaser's ears. Squinting reveals that yes, that was the snitch, and he dives after it without a moment's hesitation. He wasn't the only one to see it, but racing for the prize only makes it more fun. Quidditch is meant to be a challenge, after all.

James lets out a loud whoop. He's pulling ahead of his opponent. He can almost taste victory! Around him, the rest of the game has paused as everyone waits with baited breath for their team to be announced victor. The game is too close; it's up to him to win this. He reaches out his hand—

He spins off to the side, broom no longer under his control. James can't hide his surprise. Did the Gryffindor seeker just try to block him from the snitch? No, it must have been an accident. Gryffindors don't cheat. The crowd seems to agree with him, as there's no discernible muttering about a foul, though the Slytherins, of course, are rather bitter that they didn't just win. James rolls his eyes and again gains altitude. In the chaos, the snitch had disappeared, and he's determined to lay his hands on it first.

The first time that the broom jerks beneath him, James barely notices it. The second time, James almost loses his grip. He tries to turn and call out to Flint, but the broom is rising. Higher and higher it goes, and nothing that James can do will stop its path. The jerking makes it difficult for James to hold on, especially when his head suddenly goes light. He doesn't fight it, though; he has no delusions that he can fix this without help.

Lily takes one look down and retreats into the headspace. The sudden vertigo makes James lean over, gasping. A memory of years before flashes into his head; they had been four, and they had been stuck on the roof. Below them, Dudley had laughed as his father taunted them, claiming that if any relative of his was going to be a freak and suddenly appear on roofs, they could stay up there until they fell and broke their necks!

James squeezes his eyes shut. Cold perspiration gathers on his forehead, but he doesn't move to shake it off. What does he do? Below him, the crowd seems to have finally caught on to his predicament. By now, the broom is rolling beneath James. Finally falling off, he hangs on with all his might. Freakazoid is with them now; it seems like the entire system is here, waiting to see what will happen. The broom is vibrating, and James squeezes his eyes desperately shut. Somehow, Potter and Freakazoid are keeping them from falling, but all it would take is a second for them to plummet to their doom.

"Potter!" a voice calls. James dares a glance to the side. It's one of the Weasley twins, with the other following close behind. Their faces are grim. "We'll try to catch you," one of them says, but when they come near, the broom jumps higher. The first twin curses, but repeated attempts yield the same result. Now Freakazoid is cursing, as well, and James is just willing himself not to cry.

"Well, we'll have to catch you if you fall, then," a twin hopelessly says. Both drop down and begin circling beneath him.

_We could just let go, _Freakazoid whispers, not even bothering to stop his lips from forming the words. _If we just drop, they'll have an easier time catching us than if this damn broom flings us off._

_No, I don't think so. The broom is obviously cursed. Who's to say what the caster can do to us if we're just helplessly falling through midair? _Potter quickly looks down and then back up, blood draining from his face. Just as he's ready to give up hope and try Freakazoid's plan, there's a lull in the broom's madness, and he desperately clambers back on.

_Go! _Potter demands, and James doesn't need to be told twice. He shoots down like a bullet, heedless to the world around him. When he finds himself nearly choking, a small object lodged in his throat, he still takes the time to throw himself to the ground before he forces himself to cough it out. He examines it closely, and his mouth falls open in delight.

"I've got the snitch!" He waves it above his head, grinning like a fool, and the game ends in complete confusion.

XXXX

Ron and Hermione catch up with James after the game. It takes a while for them to get away; the Slytherins have no intention of releasing their star seeker into the hands of two dirty Gryffindors. Finally, James manages to slip away and join Ron and Hermione in the library. No one would think of trying to read right now, so they're safe here. Even James's head is quiet. The drama over, only Harry and Potter remain close to front, and Harry's only there because he can't help it.

Before James can even ask what happened, Hermione is spilling everything. "It was Snape! Oh, Harry, it was Snape. We saw him cursing you, Ron and I, he was mouthing something and he wasn't taking his eyes off of you, so I lit his robe on fire-"

"You lit his robe on fire?" Hermione pauses, shocked that James finds this more important than the identity of his attacker. She nods, but James doesn't see it. He swallows thickly, again blinking back tears. He's never had anyone fight for him before, not really. Now, twice in one day, people who don't even need to care about him- people from a different house, even!- have done something risky to protect him.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asks cautiously.

"Thank you," James says, smiling and hoping he doesn't look like a wuss.

"You're welcome," Hermione smiles, still confused.

"I helped too!" Ron butts in. James laughs.

"Yeah, sure you did." He elbows Ron in the ribs, and the two of them laugh.

"But really," Hermione frowns once they've calmed down, "Why would Snape attack his own student? I know you think he isn't fond of you, Harry, but we all know how much he likes his own students… no offence."

"That's exactly why he doesn't like Harry!" Ron drops an arm over James's shoulders. "He knows that Harry's really one of us, right mate?"

"That's hardly reason to attempt homicide!" Hermione insists, but Ron ignores her. James just shrugs. Potter, of course, sides with Hermione, and James ignores him, too. What does Potter know, anyway?

_A/N:_

_Thanks to twin1 for the review, as well as to all who favorited or subscribed!_

_supernlp: Thanks! And sort of. While Snake does want to front more, he doesn't realize right now that there are others fronting at all._


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: This chapter contains mature content in the form of sexual speech and violent flashbacks. Readers, be warned._

XXXXX

Snape's still limping, and it's beginning to bug Potter. Jay scoffs at his distraction, but Potter just can't let it go. He knows that the others think that Snape was the one who attacked them, but he doesn't believe that. Besides, he knows what it's like to have everyone ignore even the most severe of wounds, and it worries him that Snape isn't better yet. How many weeks has it been, now?

Jay slams Potter out of the body, yelling at him for his stupidity. Apparently, the potion hadn't seeped for long enough, and it would have exploded had he added the beetles already. Whatever. Potter lets his mind drift again, this time to the classroom around him. Jay sulks, complaining that with the Gryffindors on the other side of the room, there's nothing worth listening to. To spite her, Potter listens closer to Draco, who's currently occupying himself by chatting with Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass. Potter disapproves. Snape should have broken them up already.

_Right, like he'll publically chastise his precious Slytherins, _Jay sneers. After a pause, she adds in disgust, _do they really need to talk about that in school?_

For once, Potter finds himself in agreement. It seems like Greengrass is bragging about her previous lovers. Considering that she can't be older than twelve, Potter doesn't see why she's proud of her sexual activity. Though Crabbe and Goyle seem impressed, Potter thinks that Draco and Pansy share his opinion. Pansy just barely manages to keep her voice to a whisper, but Potter's sure that she's mocking her classmate. Draco's snickering only strengthens this conviction.

Potter's not the only one who's noticed the drama. Across the room, a few Gryffindors elbow each other and point. The word "slut" can be heard above Snape's lecturing Neville, but Snape doesn't bat an eyelash. The children do, and laughter resounds. Daphne turns red.

"Oh shut up," she snarls, turning on one of the Gryffindor girls, "yeah, you would think I'm a slut. I bet you'll be a virgin until your Mudblood father sells you off to some muggle banker and you spend the rest of your life as a baby machine. That's what happened to the rest of your family, right?"

Potter has no idea how accurate that statement was, but the girl seems pretty mad. Of course, that could just be because she was called a Mudblood, but it wasn't a fair thing to say either way.

"What is wrong with you?" Ron demands, edging closer to the Gryffindor. Daphne rolls her eyes.

"Oh, look, the blood traitor's standing up for the Mudblood. How surprising. Yeah, I bet your mother would know all about being a slut. How many kids does she have again? You would think she would have stopped popping out rug rats after the first two put her into poverty, but maybe your father thought he'd get promoted by the time the fifth or sixth came along."

"Oh, that's original!" Jay laughs before Ron has the chance to make a scene. "Not." The room turns to her in surprise. Even Snape has paused his speech. Daphne glares daggers.

"If it isn't the Boy Who Lived! Should have known you weren't really one of us."

"One of you? Oh sweetie, I'm so honored that you know I'm not a whore. Really, I truly am."

_You sound like a girl! _Potter groans, _goddamnit Jay, Harry would never talk like that!_

_Yes, because Harry would never bother to stand up for his fellow students. It's not my fault the rest of you are evil._

"I guess you don't need any love from fellow students," Daphne stutters, searching desperately for something to save face, "You must be pampered enough by your parents. Oh wait!"

"You fucking whore," Jay explodes, slamming her hands down on the table, laughing with wide, crazed eyes. "You little piece of shit, want to come say that again within punching range?"

"Mr. Potter," Snape drawls, finally looking up from the cauldron, "care to explain yourself?"

"Go fuck yourself," Jay shoots back. Snape's mouth drops open. The class collectively draws in and holds a breath.

"I will see you after class." His voice is clipped and low, as if in an effort to hide his fury. Jay scowls at him. She wants to respond, but Potter quickly pushes her back.

"Yes sir."

_What the hell were you thinking?!_

Jay just turns away.

XXXXX

Potter and Lily approach the dungeon together in silence. They're slightly early; they don't want to further anger Snape by showing up late. Potter is still seething over Jay's thoughtless actions, but Lily is more worried about Snape. They were horribly rude, after all, and Snape had no way of knowing why the comment hit so close to home.

Potter opens the heavy door but stops himself from stepping inside. Snape isn't alone; Filch is with him, and he's handing the professor bandages for his leg. Snape doesn't look very happy, and with a wound like that, Potter can't blame him. Not bothering to lower his voice, the Potions Master is griping: "Blasted thing. How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Potter tries to ease the door shut to give the professor his privacy, but a loud squeak betrays him. For a moment, Snape stares at Potter with eyes that hold as much horror as his own must. Then the man's expression turns dark.

"POTTER!" he screams, face turning purple with fury. He drops his robes quickly, hiding his leg. Potter stumbles back a step as his world goes fuzzy around the edges.

"GET OUT! _OUT!"_ Harry feels his muscles tense. Snape looks as if he could murder him.

"S-sorry," Boy stutters, eyes wide.

"NOW!" Snape starts forward as if he wants to strangle them. Boy takes off, sprinting blindly, ducking into corridor after twisting corridor. Even the smallest of creeks convince him that they're being followed. His eyes are closed now, and images flash behind his eye lids. Again and again, the picture of Snape morphs. He grows shorter but larger, his eyes squinting and his fists balling tighter. The hair turns brown and balding, but while the face widens, the expression doesn't need to change. Again and again, the picture of Snape morphs into a memory Vernon. Panic shoots through Boy, and he dives to the ground, covering his neck with his hands and curling into a ball. His small body is wracked with sobs, but he makes no noise. He knows better than to scream.

The internal screaming, however, refuses to stop. "Worthless freak!" Harry hears. "Good for nothing child! Why did I ever take you in? You better appreciate every scrap of food from the table, Boy. It's more than you deserve. Worthless creature, born of a worthless girl. My wife is too nice for her own good. Should have left the devil spawn of her freak sister to die in the cold."

"Sorry, sorry," Boy whimpers.

"Don't apologize to me! You lying bastard child. No, you're not sorry. Not yet. But I'll make you sorry. I'll make you sorry that you were ever born."

"Sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry that I was ever born, I was bad, bad Boy, bad Freak." Tears run down Boy's face, but the screaming doesn't slow. Harry can't shut it out. Hard as he tries, the words repeat again and again. He doesn't know how long they've been laying there. The stone is cold against his cramping back, but every time he tries to unlock their laced fingers and shift, Boy lets out a half scream and curls up tighter. Flashes dance around Harry's mind. It's not good when Vernon bothers to force them to stop protecting their head and neck. No, it's not good at all.

"Worthless boy… I'll make you sorry."

Harry already is.

XXXXX

The dorm room is empty. Harry doesn't know how late it is, but he's glad that he will be left alone. He's exhausted. He feels like he's about to faint, and it's an effort to open his eyes after every heavy blink. He digs his nails into his arm and clenches his teeth together. He can't fall asleep now. He won't be able to stand the nightmares he can feel waiting to slip into his defenseless mind.

_That bloody git, _James hisses. Harry manages to muster up a faint mimicry of surprise. Surely James can't be siding with them over the one hurting them?

_I never liked him! I knew that that bloody bastard was up to no good. You heard him, didn't you, Harry? He was trying to get past the three headed dog! He was trying to steal the treasure, I'd bet money on it. I bet he set that troll loose as a distraction so that he'd have an easier time getting at it. That bastard!_

Harry chuckles. Of course James is mad at Snape. The man is a Slytherin, after all. That makes him an acceptable target.

_Don't be daft, _Potter insists, _maybe Snape was checking to make sure that the treasure was safe and secure. If Dumbledore's the one hiding it, of course he would have gotten the teachers involved. Maybe he was trying to ensure that the troll wasn't someone else's idea of a distraction._

_You blind fool! Are you really so determined to protect your damn Slytherin honor that you refuse to see what's right in front of you?_

Potter gives some sort of retort, but Harry isn't listening. With a sigh, he stands up and makes his way to his bed. Maybe he prefers the nightmares, after all.

_A/N:_

_Thanks to all watched, favorited, and reviewed! Special thanks to TTC -Kitsu._

_twin1: Thank you! It's actually easier than you might think to keep the alters consistent. You just need to view them as characters, same as all the others. That way, they don't fall flat. And James should be more friendly now, though he is rather stubborn!_


	19. Chapter 19

That weekend, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all head down to see Hagrid. Apparently, the man wants to congratulate Harry on his Quidditch skills, and as Harry's "best friends," Ron and Hermione are along for the ride. The three of them troop down Hogwart's ground to Hagrid's small hut. They try not to gape at how large Hagrid looks in comparison to the small room. Potter frowns.

_Why doesn't Hogwarts provide more for him? Surely, with the size of the castle, they could make Hagrid a bit more comfortable._

_ He seems fine with it as it is, _Harry points out. _He looks happy enough, at least. I guess he views his home as cozy?_

Potter shrugs and holds his breath to stop himself from sneezing. He doesn't like all the dust. James, on the other hand, couldn't be happier! He's still riding the high from winning, never mind that even the Slytherins have stopped mentioning the game whenever a Gryffindor is near. If Hagrid wants to celebrate his victory (and, likely, his survival as well), who is he to complain? Sure, the small shack's dirty, and he hasn't seen Hagrid since the giant of a wizard had first brought them to Hogwarts, but he's with his two best friends who are even only a little upset that he had won the match, and everything is fine.

"It was Snape," Ron is already explaining, cutting right to the chase, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing Harry's broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off him."

"Rubbish," says Hagrid, "Why would Snape do something like that?"

Potter's inclined to agree with him, but James refuses to see sense. "Snape's a bloody bastard. He tried to get past that three headed dog on Halloween, he wanted to steal whatever it was guarding. He got bitten, but that won't stop him from trying again."

_What does that have to do with attempted murder?!_ Potter demands, but James ignores him. His attention is focused on Hagrid, who has just dropped his teacup.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" The man says.

"Fluffy?!" The horror in Ron's voice is almost its defining feature, but Hagrid manages not to notice.

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"To guard the what?" James prods.

"Now, don't ask me anymore. That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!" James insists.

"Rubbish," Hagrid gruffly says, "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" Hermione cries. "I know a jinx when I see one Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid yells. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh—yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Nicolas Flamel?" James grins smugly. Hagrid looks furious with himself.

XXXXX

Before Harry knows it, it's Winter Break. That morning, everyone is chattering excitedly, discussing what presents they're hoping to get and confiding how glad they are to finally see their parents again. Even Draco is feeling the holiday spirit, even if that does just mean that he's bragging about the new broom he expects to receive. Harry's sitting next to Draco, but he's not really listening. He doesn't have holiday spirit. He doesn't even plan to go home. While everyone else is boarding the trains, he'll be alone in his room, hoping that the flashbacks won't be too bad.

Realizing that he's not remotely hungry- in fact, despite the vaguely empty feeling in his stomach, he feels that he'd be sick if he tried to so much as taste his breakfast- Harry sets down his plate and wanders out of the Great Hall. He doesn't want to go back to the Slytherin Common room; he'll be spending enough time there alone soon enough. He's just contemplating hiding in the library when he hears hurried footsteps behind him and feels a hand grip his shoulder.

"Harry!" Ron pants.

Silently thanking god that he didn't flinch in response to the touch, Harry pulls back a bit and tries to grin. "Hi Ron. What's up?

Ron looks like his face will split open if he smiles any wider. "Mum said I can stay at here for Christmas!"

Thud. Thud. Thud. Harry's hear beats painfully in his chest, and there's a strange rushing noise in his ears. He wonders if he would seem rude if he asked Ron to repeat himself or explain what he means. Ron can't be saying that he's staying behind just to stay with Harry, can he? This has to be a trick.

"We'll have to find somewhere else to open our presents in private," Ron continues, oblivious, "since we can't use the Common Rooms, and no way are we going to spend Christmas in the library! It's a shame that 'Mione won't be there with us, but I guess she got home sick. Plus, I guess her parents didn't want her to spend Christmas away from them, them being muggles and all, Hogwarts might not seem like a good option."

"Ron?" Ron pauses and somehow grins wider, waiting for Harry to continue. Not knowing what else to say, Harry shakes his head, staring at the ground. "Thank you."

XXXXX

Over the first week of break, Ron and "Harry" spend quite a bit of time together, though Harry himself is rarely present for it. Without even Hermione to interrupt them, Ron and James bond quite nicely. Ron teaches the system Wizard Chess, and though James can't make head nor tails of it, it wins Harrison over in a heartbeat. By the time that Christmas rolls around, the whole system is more relaxed than it can remember ever being. It hardly matters to them that the Dursleys are probably even more satisfied by the arrangement than they are; for once, they're happy.

Christmas night finds Ron and Harry (along with James and even Potter in the background, though Ron doesn't know that) curled up in the Gryffindor Common Room by the fire. Despite what Ron had thought, Hogwarts is so empty over the break that even the few remaining upper classmen don't seem to mind Harry's presence. The password will have changed by the next term, anyway, so it isn't like Harry can use his entrance against anyone. No, this is all about friendship and holiday spirit.

_God, you're a sap, _James bluffs as Harry tentatively fingers one of his wrapped gifts. Potter somehow refrains from pointing out how James was the one who could barely even leave front the night before because of pent up excitement.

_No better than a four year old, really, _he had said. Now, though, he's quiet, watching as his core sees what Mrs. Weasley sent him.

"Sorry," Ron laughs awkwardly, "Every year, she makes us a sweater." He unwraps his own and holds it up for Harry to see. "Mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," Harry says, examining the fudge that came with it. He breaks off a piece to enjoy, but he decides to save the rest as a treat for Hairy and Hansel. With the constant commotion of Hogwarts, they haven't been able to come out for a little while, which Harry feels rather bad about.

His next present is from Hermione, and it's also sweets: Chocolate Frogs, this time. After that, it's a wooden flute from Hagrid that must have been handmade (rather poorly made, as well, but the amount of time that must have been put into making it awes Harry). To Harry's shock, even his aunt and uncle have sent him something. Potter pokes it suspiciously, half expecting a small bomb. To avoid drawing attention to himself, though, he does need to open it, and he does so with a quick jerking motion. Out falls a small note.

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. _Taped to the note is a fifty-pence piece.

"_Weird!" _Ron exclaims. "What a shape! This is _money?"_

Potter nods, distracted. "Uh, yeah. You can keep it, if you'd like." His head feels a bit funny, but he takes a deep breath and pushes the feeling away.

"So who sent this?" He gestures to the remaining parcel. When Ron can only shrug, he picks it up and unwraps it. Out falls some sort of silvery cloth. Potter's not very impressed, but Ron gasps in shock.

"I've heard of those," he says in a hushed voice, coin forgotten. "If that's what I think it is—they're really rare and _really _valuable."

"But what is it?" Potter picks up the cloth, marveling at the strange sensation. James runs it through his fingers and looks at Ron.

"It's an invisibility cloak. I'm sure it is—try it on."

With a shrug, James does as he's told, laughing at Ron's responding yelp.

"It _is!_ Look down!"

After confirming that yes, he can no longer see his feet, James dashes to the mirror. He's met by a head that's bobbing in mid air and grinning like mad. He pulls the hood on, and his reflection disappears entirely.

"Wicked," he breathes.

"There's a note!" Ron says suddenly, "a note fell out of it!"

James pulls off the cloak and carefully folds it back up before seizing the fallen letter. The hand writing is unrecognizable, but the words catch his breath.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

There's no signature at the bottom. Even in this world of magic, staring at the note reveals nothing new. Though Ron is still admiring the cloak, James has fallen silent. Potter wonders who might have sent it to them, but even that doesn't inspire James to make a sarcastic comment.

Before Potter can flat out ask what the problem is, the twins come barging in, and Harry quickly hides the cloak back in its box. He doesn't want anyone else to see it, not yet. That night, though, he can't resist sneaking from his empty dorm and wandering the halls, hidden from prying eyes. It's not like he was going to get any sleep, anyway.

After a while, he decides to make use of his time and go to the Restricted Section of the library. He can read up on Nicholas Flamel and perhaps find something useful. Decided, he enters the library and steps over the rope that separates the forbidden books from the rest. When he examines the books, he realizes just why they're forbidden to begin with. The backs are all peeling, the titles spelled out in golden letters that Harry can't read. One book looks to be stained with blood. If Harry stops moving and holds his breath, he hears faint whispering around him. He knows that it must be a product of his mind, but—well, this is a school of magic. Who knows what's contained in these books.

Harry sets the lamp down carefully on the floor and looks closer. None of these look relevant to his search, but he can't know for sure. Finally, he decides to just pick one and try to make sense of it. It can't hurt. Normally, he would run his fingers along the spines until they came to rest on a particularly pleasing spot, as he used to at his old primary school library when he got the chance, but somehow, that seems like a bad idea. Instead, he picks up a large tome with a silver and black cover. He lifts it off the bottom row and places it gently by the lamp. After fingering the uneven edges of the papers inside, he cracks it open to a random page.

Immediately, the book emits a high pitched scream. Even when Harry drops the cover shut and jumps back in fear (knocking over the lamp and extinguishing its light in the process), the shrieking continues.

_What did you do?! _Potter demands, finally awake enough to pay attention to the world around him. As before, Freakazoid has taken over and has sprinted back to the doorway without so much as bothering to replace the book on the shelf. Hearing footsteps, he ducks into a corner, remaining still and near silent as Filch shuffles past him and shines a light around the room. With the aid of Harry's new cloak, he slips past the man and darts away on light feet. Also as before, he doesn't bother to check where he's going, and it's not until Harry finds themselves in front of an unrecognizable suit of armor that he realizes that they're lost. Somehow, impossibly, Filch has followed them, even if he doesn't seem to know who or where they are. Harry can hear him talking to Snape, and the voices are getting closer. They're looking for him.

_Just take off the cloak, _someone wails, _you were bad, and now you deserve whatever punishment they decide to give you! _Harry ignores them. When Snape and Filch round the corner, Freakazoid backs slowly away, carefully not to draw their attention with quick movements. There's an open door behind them, now, and they just barely squeeze through. Filch and Snape continue past, and Freakazoid finally releases a relieved breath and fades away.

_Where are we, anyway? _Potter muses. He turns the body and examines the room. It looks like an unused classroom, but in the center rests a large mirror. _What on earth?_

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi, _Harry reads. _What?_

Potter can only shrug in response. They edge closer, wondering what the mirror can do (it must be magic, after all, or why would it be hidden like this?). However, even after throwing around several suggestions, they're not prepared for what they see.

The figure at the front of the mirror looks just like Harry, if not a little older. There's his unkempt hair and sharp green eyes, his knobby knees and weary stance. Directly behind him, slightly to the left, is an older (though not by much) teenage boy. Like Harry, he has jet black hair and deep green eyes, but he's taller and more muscular. His stance is more confident, and he wears a light smirk. On Harry's other side is a slightly younger teenager. He has Harry's hair and similar looking glasses, and he's tall and thin. His scowl is slightly bitter, but his eyes are friendly. Beside him is an almost identical girl, but her glare is far harsher, and her bottom lip has duel piercings. Right before the image fades into the shadows, there's another girl, this one tall, blond, and so thin it looks like the wind could snap her in half. A younger girl with dark red hair kneels in front of her. She, too, has Harry's eyes, and she's smiling in a shy yet open manner. Two littles boys are beside her. The first has very long hair and a huge smile, and the older is just about exploding with energy. A gangly boy is posed next to them, sitting close to Harry's foot. Of all the figures, he appears the most awkward; he's thin as a rail (though not as thin as the girl), and his glasses are so thick that he seems blind as a bat. His face is smattered with freckles, and he seems a bit confused.

On the other side, behind the older teen, is yet another boy who looks like Harry. This one is dressed in Slytherin robes and scowling. Laughing gleefully beside him is a young woman with bright eyes. Her clothing, Harry can't help but notice, is very revealing. The next figure, a tall, genderless figure with a red Mohawk, manages to dress even more outrageously. It's in stark contrast to the blurred shadow behind him. By their feet are more children. The first seems little older than a toddler; his face is streamed with tears, and his gaze is pleading. The boy next to him is lined with dark bruises, and the next child, though healthier, looks just as desperate. The final visible child doesn't have a discernible age or gender, but the face is haunting. Beyond it are only swirling shadows, though the occasional movement can be gleamed.

Harry reaches out and lays a hand on the glass. _It's us._HarhhhHa

_A/N: After the last chapter, here's something a bit more light hearted. This chapter is longer than usual, as well, but I take long enough breaks that it's well deserved!_

_Thank you to twin1 for the review as well as to all who favorited and followed._


	20. Chapter 20

Break is over, and classes have resumed. Hermione, to Harry's endless amusement, is only frustrated that he and Ron didn't discover the identity of Nicholas Flamel while she was away. Harry's not too worried; now that Hermione is back and ready to research, he doubts that it will take too long at all. That might be a bit optimistic; they've found no mention of the man in any library book so far, and Ron is becoming frustrated.

As enthusiastic as James is about solving the mystery, he's not fond of reading, either, and his attention is quickly diverted by the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Snape will be the referee, which infuriates him to no end. Though Ron and Hermione advise him not to play, there's no reserve Seeker, and James isn't about to let his team down, even if he does have to play for the Slytherins. In truth, he wants to be the hero again, even if only for a little while.

That urge to play hero might be why, when James finds Neville hopping around the halls under the Leg-Locker Curse, he performs (well, gets Lily to perform, but same thing, really), the countercurse at once. Neville collapses to the ground, sobbing in gratitude, and James glances around uneasily.

"Get up, mate, you're fine," he mutters, red faced. "Here!" He shoves a chocolate frog in Neville's face.

"Thank you," Neville sniffs, accepting the candy with shaking hands. Instead of eating it right away, he stares at James until the James realizes that he's waiting for him to ask what happened.

"Alright, who did it?" James leans back, getting comfortable and preparing for a long story.

Instead, Neville just shivers and sobs, "Malfoy. I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Malfoy," James growls." Of course."

"D'you want the card back?" Neville asks, and James grabs it and stuffs it into his pocket without a second glance. He nods stiffly at Neville and walks briskly off.

_What do you think you're doing? _Potter hisses.

_Something I should have done a long time ago._

_That's not an answer!_ James ignores Potter's cursing and enters their common room. Sure enough, Draco is splayed causally over the dark green couch. It looks like he's taking a study break, if the notes scattered around him count for anything.

"Potter," Draco nods. Then he registers James's grim face. "What's up with you?"

"Hey!" Draco yells as James grabs him by his collar and shoves him off the couch. "What the hell do you think you're—"

"You shut up," James hisses, roughly pushing the boy back down and holding a foot threateningly over him. Draco falls silent, shocked.

"Now you listen here. You leave those kids alone, Malfoy, or I swear to God—"

"Is this about _Neville?"_ Draco demands. Without hesitation, James brings his foot down on Draco's fingers, and Draco whimpers in pain.

"Next time," James smiles, "that will be your chest. And I will do it again and again and again until your chest caves in and your ribs shatter, piercing your rapidly collapsing lungs and you die."

"You're mad," Draco whispers.

"Oh, just a little annoyed," James laughs, "no, you don't want me to be _really _angry. You won't like that very much, I don't think."

_What the hell is going on?_ Harry sees James preparing to make good on his promise. _Do not so much as move._

James freezes, conflicted. His eyes dart back and forth. Other than himself and Draco, the Slytherin room is abandoned. His head is aching, and he wants nothing more than to- than to- _why _does he want to do that, again?

James turns tail and runs inside. Harry is left staring down at a terrified Draco.

_I don't suppose Lily knows a charm to erase memories?_

XXXXX

By the time that Harry gets around to telling Ron and Hermione about what had happened, rumors of Neville being the reason behind Draco's finger splint have already made it around the school twice. Of course, not everyone buys into that theory. The current argument is that Draco must have sprained them from hitting the wall too hard in laughter. People are taking bets, though Harry doesn't know how they plan to discover the truth of the situation—Neville, for obvious reasons, isn't talking.

Somehow, the teachers remain oblivious.

As Harry tells his friends an edited version of the story, he finds himself playing with something in his pocket. Absentmindedly, he removes the card and gives it a glance. Dumbledore again.

_That's it! _Harrison exclaims excitedly. Harry pauses. Sure, they had planned to research later, but he hadn't realized Harrison was already close to front.

_The card! _Harrison says, a whine creeping into his voice. _Harry, you have to look at the card! Look, see? Flamel!_

Without waiting for Harry, Harrison blurts out, "Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the 12 uses of dragon's blood, _and his work in alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel!"_

Hermione's already on her feet, exclaiming, "Stay there!" Then she's dashed off to the girls' dormitories.

Harrison nods, still happily muttering, "It's on the card. Remember, Ron, we got one on the train this summer? That's where we heard the name, I knew we'd heard it before!"

Hermione quickly returns, lugging a huge old book with her. "I never thought to look in here!" she whispers excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"_Light?"_ Says Ron. Hermione ignores him.

"I knew it! _I knew it!" _She points to something in the text. "Nicholas Flamel is the _only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"_

When she's met by silence, she pushes the book towards Ron and Harry. Harry only takes a quick glance, as Harrison does seem to know what it is, even if he didn't realize a response would have been nice. Ron grudgingly reads the paragraphs that detail how the stone can give someone immortality. Nicholas Flamel, of course, is the stone's owner.

When Ron's finished, Hermione says, "See? The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringott's!"

"No wonder someone wants that," Harry mutters. The three pack up their things and return to their dorms, promising to meet again tomorrow.

XXXXX

_Who was that? _

They're lying in their bed, curtains drawn, more inside their head than out. Harry is shaking his head at Potter, the lack of sleep showing in the dark shadows under his eyes.

_I don't know._

_Should we ask him? _

Harry grins weakly. _You really must be desperate, if you're willing to talk with James._

_I don't like it, Harry._ Potter sits down on an internal couch and buries his head in his hands. _What if _He_ has woken up?_

_So what if he has? We'll keep an eye on James. I won't let anyone use him like that again._

Potter just shakes his head. _Harry…_

_What do you want me to?!_ Harry explodes. _I'm not going to just sit here and watch the system fall apart. If I planned to let our lives go to shit, I would have stayed with the Dursleys. No. We're free now, okay? We're _free, _and Hell if I let them control my life still. Okay? That's not happening._

Potter says nothing, and Harry returns to front still angry. After a moment, he locks himself in front, closing off his alters' method of access. He'll deal with this tomorrow.

For the first time in months, he dreams without nightmares.

XXXXX

_A/N: As always, thanks to all who read, reviewed, and favorited or subscribed!_

_Ludost: I'm glad you enjoyed knowing what the alters look like! It would be nice if they could have their own bodies, wouldn't it?_

_Anon: They would all enjoy having their own bodies and lives, yes. They've been together through so much, and it's hard for some of them to have live only through Harry. More importantly, though, they want to be able to live together in harmony and without fear._


	21. Chapter 21

"Do you think we could get anything else out of Hagrid? He was the one who let slip about Flamel's involvement, after all."

"I don't know about that. He might get angry."

"So? Common, Hermione, this is important!"

They're sitting down by the lake, enjoying the sun as they bicker. Now that they're closer than ever to solving the mystery, it frustrates Ron that they seem to have reached a dead end. Harry has to admit that it _is_ annoying. Everything's annoying lately. There's so much school work, and though Lily may not mind it, she's not the one losing her free time. Actually, Harry can't remember a time that his alters were so active, not since the abuse was at its height. Things are changing. He hates change.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione questions. "You seem a bit distracted."

Harry shrugs. "There's another Quidditch match coming up—against Ravenclaw, this time. I'm still going to play, mind you, Snape or no Snape. I won't let him think that he's gotten the better of me."

"Is that really the best idea?"

"Oh quit nagging him! He'll be fine, won't you, Harry?"

"I certainly hope so." But he doesn't _know_, not for sure, and Quidditch is the least of his problems. He doesn't think that his attacker, whoever they might have been, would be stupid enough to attempt the same trick twice. That isn't to say that Snape, guilty or not, isn't a pain. He seems to have something personal against Harry, as frequently as he takes jabs against his student. Still, he's just a petty teacher. If he's the type of person who boosts his ego through insulting those smaller than him, then Harry wants nothing to do with him. He's known too many oversized vermin to worry about a snake.

XXXXX

They had their wands with them? Really? Didn't they realize that he could handle this himself? James rolls his eyes and mounts his broom. Dumbledore's in the crowd. No matter how sulky Snape gets, he wouldn't dare attack them in front of Dumbledore. It's all fine, jeesh!

It would be nice if Snape would judge fairly, though. James has barely lifted off of the ground, and Snape is already calling penalties for no reason other than feeling like it. James resolves to ignore him. If he lets Snape get too him, he won't be able to concentrate, and he really just wants to find the snitch already. If anyone still doubts that he has what it takes, he'll prove them wrong!

He circles high above the ground, keeping a sharp eye on for the snitch as well as anything amiss. He feels a bit dizzy, but that could just be the excitement. He feels someone else moving up beside him, but it could easily just be Harry or Potter wanting to see the match. Even though the presence is unrecognizable. Even though it _should_ be obvious to him.

There's a flash of gold, and James streaks towards the ground. The snitch travels towards Snape, and James follows it, leaning forwards and willing the broom to go even faster. The Ravenclaw seeker is slow to respond, but no matter. How cool would it be if James could win now, before even five minutes had passed?

James just barely misses barreling into Snape. Then his fingers close, he pulls out of his dive, and he's triumphantly waving the snitch for all to see, whooping in glee. He lands with a flourish and graciously accepts the praise of his classmates as they swarm the field. None of them notice that he sways a bit, vision temporarily darkening around the edges. He doesn't allow anyone to notice. He smiles as wide as he can, and he's still smiling when he's finally able to duck behind the bleachers by himself.

_What do you want from me?_ James demands. Without anyone else around to demand his attention, James is overwhelmed by the alter's presence. It makes him feel dirty, somehow.

_You've changed, _the voice mutters.

_I don't know what you mean. Who the hell are you? _There's no response. _Fine, be that way. If you're not even going to talk to me, why don't you just leave? _James begins to get irritated. _I'll get Harry!_

_You think he can fight me? _The tone of the voice makes James shiver, though he doesn't know why. It's just another alter. Why should he, of all people, be afraid?

_Yes, I do. Scram! _In response, the voice only laughs. James isn't sure what to do.

"Harry!" Hermione calls, "Oh, Harry, you played so well!"

At the same time, Ron is exclaiming, "Good job mate! It's shame that you had to help Slytherin, but I think I made up for it, punching Malfoy in the face."

Then "Harry" looks up, and they both freeze.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asks unsurely. The alter eyes them silently and smirks when Hermione automatically takes a step back. Then the body shudders, dropping suddenly, and James is staring wide eyed at his friends.

"Oh, man, that's awesome!" He laughs, trying to hide his unease. "What for? Too bad he got a punch in, looks like your nose must hurt." But Ron's smile remains strained, and they walk back into Hogwarts in near silence.

XXXXX

Little changes over the course of the next few months. Things may be balanced precariously, but they are balanced. Nothing new can be learned about either Flamel nor the new alter, though the former may have Hermione's distraction to blame. Despite finals being over ten weeks away, they're all that she can think about. Somehow, she keeps managing to drag Harry and Ron away to her study sessions, as well. Today, as always, it's in the library. As usual, Lily is the one doing the studying, though Harrison is close behind her. Absorbed as they are in their reading, they don't look up when Ron begins talking until they hear the responding voice, male and decidedly not Hermione's.

"What're you lot up ter? Yer not still lookin' fer Nicholas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Ron brags, "_and_ we know what the dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St—"

"_Shhhh_!" Hagrid quickly checks around them for listening ears. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"Actually, we have a few questions," Lily says carefully, bookmarking her tome and placing it down. "We're a bit curious about what, besides Fluffy, is—"

"SHHHHH!" Lily draws back a bit, gripping the desk, but Hagrid doesn't notice her fear. "Listen—come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabittin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh."

"I suppose we'll see you later then." Lily watches Hagrid leave before she relaxes her position. When she glances at her friends, she notices Hermione looking at her oddly. "What?" She asks, flushing.

"Nothing," Hermione says after a beat of silence. Lily raises an eyebrow, but Hermione just turns back to her book. For a moment, Lily has to resist the urge to bite her own fingers until she can calm down, but she manages to return to her reading with little fuss. Behind her, Harrison has fallen silent.

"Dragons," Ron says, and Lily starts. Ron clarifies, "he was in the section for dragons. I wonder why? Dragons are dangerous—you should see the ones Charlie's got off some wild ones in Romania. And anyway, what did he have behind his back?"

Hermione joins the conversation."I suppose we might find out tonight."

XXXXX

That night, Potter is the one who, alongside Ron and Hermione, makes the trek to Hagrid's cottage. Hagrid's curtains are drawn, and when they knocked, he calls, "who is it?" Curious as the others may have been, only Harry is willing to keep close to front around a secretive adult male. James, to their surprise, wasn't in the mood.

After everyone has finished refusing Hagrid's less-than-delectable snacks, they settle down to business.

"So—yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," Potter says plainly. "We were wondering if you could tell us what, besides Fluffy, is guarding the Sorcerer's Stone."

Hagrid frowns at him. "O' course I can't. Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts—I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even knew abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you _do_ know, you know everything that goes on round here," says Hermione, beaming at Hagrid. Potter nods at her in admiration. She smiles at him before continuing, "We only wondered who had _done_ the guarding, really. We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

When Hagrid seems to swell with pride, Potter knows that they've got him. He also makes a mental note to be careful with Hermione. She's too intelligent for her own good—or, rather, for the good of those around her.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that… let's see… he borrowed Fluffy from me… then some o' the teachers did enchantments… Professor Sprout—Professor Flitwick—Professor McGonagall—Professor Quirrell—an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"_Snape?"_

"Yeah—yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped _protect_ the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

"Of course not," Potter smoothly intervenes before Ron and Hermione can say anything, "I'm sure that he wouldn't do such a thing." He ignores Ron's incredulous look. If Ron wishes, he can think that Harry can be just as manipulative as Hermione, but Potter refuses to gravely insult the Potion's Master like that. The man might not be the best teacher, but accusing him of something so terrible would be inappropriate.

"Hagrid," he asks, shifting uncomfortably, "could you please open one of the windows? It's really warm in here."

"Can't, Harry, sorry." Hagrid glances at the fire, and Potter follows his gaze.

"Hagrid," he says slowly, "what _is_ that?" But in truth, he already knows. Resting on the fire was a large, black egg.

"Ah," says Hagrid nervously, "That's—er…"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" Ron says, crouching over the fire so that he can get a better look. "It must have cost you a fortune."

"Won it," Hagrid says, "las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" Hermione asks, looking more than a bit dubious.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," says Hagrid as he pulls out a large book from under his pillow and proceeds to explain all about how to care for dragon eggs.

XXXXX

Hermione's interest in the Sorcerer's Stone renewed, Harry quickly finds himself back in the library every afternoon—or, more accurately, that's where _Lily_ finds herself. More and more often now, Harrison is helping her. Even he can't stand spending his only time at front involving listening to rants about wizard history. It's stifling for him, though even now, he has to hide. The problem with Harrison is his tendency to startle easily and to cover his ears and rock when there's too much stimuli. It's his habitual sucking on their sleeves and freakish ability to recite huge chunks of text given the slightest provocation. It's how quickly he gets frustrated and how he often falls silent or tries to wander off before a conversation is over. As much as Lily tries to help him, she can't keep everything from slipping through. At least a few Ravenclaws are convinced that the Boy Who Lived is more than a bit dead in the head.

It's Hermione who finally approaches them. "I've been to the library…" she begins.

Lily forces herself to laugh. "I'm not surprised. Don't you know more than the teachers, now?"

Hermione shifts uncomfortably, refusing to rise to the bait. "I came across a condition… it's fascinating, really, very interesting… Hogwarts doesn't talk about it anywhere, you understand, so you probably haven't heard of it, it's a muggle condition… Erm, it's caused by… well, that's irrelevant right now. Um… Harry, you see, you're always _changing._ Sometimes, you act perfectly like a child, but then you're so cold, and sometimes you almost know more than I do, but others time you're as bad as Ron! And I thought you were just putting on masks at first, but… Well, the condition is called… no, it _used_ to be called Multiple Personality Disorder, but now it's Dissociative Identity Disorder."

The blood drains from Lily's face. Within moments, Potter is staring coolly out at the young witch. "What about it?"

Hermione's eyes are wide. "Oh, Harry," she breathes, and Potter curses himself. She saw the switch. Hermione understands that they switched! And now, she's backtracking. "But I guess you're not, are you? Harry, I mean. But oh, maybe I shouldn't have said that! The books say that it's very rare, you understand, and absolutely none of them have any advice other than to get you to a therapist, but this is Hogwarts, no one would know what to do with you, and I'm not sure even you know what to do with you… do you even know what I'm talking about? They said that alters black out. You do know that you have Dissociative Identity Disorder, right? Or, you know that there are others in your head, at least?... Harry?"

"…Harry…?" And horror dawns on the witch's face as she realizes that she may never have known Harry Potter at all.

XXXXX

_A/N: Sorry for the absence! With school winding down, there are so many projects to do and tests to study for. ;_; Hopefully, I'll start updating more regularly again after this. I hope that this longer chapter helps make up for things, a bit? Sorry! As well, I apologize for the bits lifted from canon, but I can't write a good Hagrid. ^^;_

_Thanks to juia for commenting, as well as all who favorited or followed this story. Special thanks to Kitten in the Shadows; your comment made me so happy, you have no idea. 3_

_d'ihshtri: True, stories that involve DID can be very hard to write. However, I actually know quite a bit about this disorder both from extensive research and personal experience. Believe it or not, the average alter number for males with DID is ten alters, and the number can reach into the hundreds, even thousands! Finding someone with only two alters is much rarer than finding someone with dozens. I'm sorry if it's confusing, though. And yes, it does follow canon very closely right now, and I'm not really happy about that, either. It will break off __**much**__ more drastically during Harry's second year, but right now, I need the structure to help me update. :P_


	22. Chapter 22

"Harry?" Hermione asks, her pitch shooting up at least a decimal. Potter winces. It's too loud. The library is too bright. His thoughts are whirling too fast. What the hell is he supposed to do?

"…No." He says. He took too long to answer, but at least Hermione hasn't fainted yet, though she does look close to it. Her face has gone pale and she's shivering like it's still the middle of winter. She's still muttering under her breath. Apologizing, he realizes, and dread settles heavily in his stomach. If she knows that they have DID…

"We weren't raped, if that's what you're wondering." Even Potter is surprised by how tired the voice sounds. At least Hermione, startled as she may be, seems relieved by this confession.

"I'm sorry, it's just they said it's caused by abuse."

"Not all abuse is sexual." Hermione nods, trying to hide the shock on her face. The dread in Potter's stomach multiplies.

_What the hell are you doing? _No answer or even acknowledgement that Potter was heard.

"May I ask who I'm talking to?" Hermione tries, and Potter wonders what book she read to do that in. He distinctly remembers reading that acknowledging alters makes them stronger, as if ignoring them will make them go away. Maybe she realized how stupid that was? She is smart, after all.

But the silence drags on without an answer. _You need to speak now, _Potter urges. Hermione is starting to look honestly scared. Potter's preparing to take back control of the situation when he finally speaks.

"Harry."

"No, I—" Hermione laughs awkwardly, "I know that. But who are you? I mean, it's alright if you don't want to tell me, but—"

"My name is Harry," Harry repeats slowly. Hermione freezes as if in shock, and Harry laughs. It's a low, bitter thing, and Potter winces.

"I'm sorry," Harry smiles tightly, "I'm being very rude, aren't I? Here you are, just now realizing one of your closest friends has multiple personalities, and here I am, scaring you off. I'm very sorry."

_What the hell are you doing? Goddamn it Harry…_

Harry ignores Potter. He's staring up at the ceiling and mouthing something, god knows what. Potter pushes back into front, deciding that enough is enough. The body shudders a bit as they switch, and Potter finds himself blinking harder than usual. He wonders if their switching is always this visible or if the stress is making it harder to switch seamlessly.

"Sorry, Hermione. Harry's a bit… that was Harry, if you were wondering. Er, I'm Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you. But, well, yes, he can get a little… intense, I suppose. I suppose one can't blame him for being angry, with him being stuck with the lot of us, and all." Potter takes in a large breath and slowly blows it out. "Hermione, I know we're acting very, very strangely right now. We're usually not this bad. It's just that you're the first person our age to ever know that we have Dissociative Identity Disorder, and only the second person over all… Dumbledore is the other, in case you were…" Potter trails off, but nothing more needs to be said, anyway. Hermione is nodding. She closes her eyes for a minute, but when she opens them, she seems more sure of herself. She nods again and forces herself to smile.

"I have to admit, I really have no idea what's going on. I think I might need to research this a little bit more."

At first, she tenses when Potter laughs, but when she realizes it's with her, not at her, she joins in.

As she's gathering up her books to leave, she asks, "So… are you the one I'm friends with, or is that someone else?"

"You know a lot of us, actually. I rather like you, but it's Lily who most enjoys spending time with you. And James is the asshole, just by the way. Thought you should know." When Hermione smiles, Potter knows it's going to be okay.

XXX

_What the bloody hell was that about? Harry, what the _fuck? Potter's panicked anger must be unusually strong, as within moments, James, Lily, and even Freakazoid draw close. Harry ignores them. Operating in near silence, he prepares for bed, leaving Potter to quickly explain the situation to the others. Harry doesn't react even when chaos breaks out. Ignoring the internal fighting, he opens a book and begins to read. Potter has to admit, his ability to shut them out is admirable, annoying as it can be at times.

_Are you done now?_ Harry asks blandly, bookmarking the progress, _because I'm tired of reading about Quidditch._

_Give me that! _James demands, resetting the book to its old page. Potter grits his teeth in frustration, and James glares. _I was in the middle of reading it!_

_That's irrelevant right now! _Potter notices Harry's blank face and groans. _He thinks we're acting like a bunch of children, James. Just knock it off._

_You are acting like a bunch of school children, _Lily laughs awkwardly. She takes the body, lies down, and curls up in the covers. The dorm is still too loud for her to actually sleep, but she doesn't mind. _Harry, we're here to help you… I mean, really, that's why we exist. I think I know what's bothering you, but… _she ignores the curious glances of James and Potter. _Just be careful. You're so stressed lately, you're going to split again soon if you have to take much more._

_Right,_ Harry mutters. After a moment, he repeats himself. _Right. Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine. Please leave me alone now. _After a moment, Lily complies, and James sulkily follows her. Potter just crosses his arms.

_Well?_

_What did she see? _Harry asks. _She saw something that tipped her off. Who was that? James was acting as if one of us was talking to him, but I didn't see anyone there._

_Maybe it's one of his splits? _Potter suggested. _It's possible, don't give me that look! I know that none of us could see Sniffles at first because he was still a fragment of Bruises until the bullying got worse. Maybe James is just getting rid of his old antagonism._

_Maybe… _Harry shakes his head. This time, the following silence is fueled by exhaustion.

_Goodnight, Harry. _

XXX

"Harry! Harry." She catches up to them after breakfast, and Potter quickly scans the area. "Don't worry," Hermione grins sheepishly, "I'm not going to talk about it in public. I called you Harry, didn't I? Come on, class doesn't start for another half an hour."

Potter lets himself be pulled into the library, and he seats himself without fuss. James is griping again, but that's so typical that Potter doesn't even bat an eyelash.

"Alright," Hermione begins, "so I couldn't sleep last night, so I did do more research, as I'd promised. I had to resort to searching through huge medical tomes to find new snippets I hadn't seen before, but that's alright, I understand that it is rare. Do you mind me asking questions?"

Harry doesn't respond, so Potter finds himself shrugging. "Sure, shoot."

"Just how many of you are there? A lot of the books only mention two or three alters, but I'm sure I've already met more than that."

"Like?" Potter prods.

"Well, you, for one, and Harry. Lily, you said, and James. And I think that it's someone else who acts Autistic like that. And someone glared at me before… And in potions, was that the same person who glared? They felt so much darker, though…"

"You really are too smart for your own good! Yes, that's right. Well, I'm the host. The gist of it is that I use the body the most often. Harry is our original. James is… well, he used to be a right git, but he's gotten better now. Lily is our resident magic genius. Harrison, the one who acts like a socially awkward freak, he's the actual genius. In potions, I think you're referring to Jay. She's James' twin sister, but she's not very friendly. There's the children, as well."

Hermione's face lights up. "Yes, I've read about that! Littles, aren't they called? What are they like? Do they really act like children, or are they old for their age? How many of them are there? I read that most alters are children, but I realize that we're not so old ourselves, and all of the examples were in their forties, so I'm not sure if that applies."

"There's a few of them, and yes, they act like children their age. A good many of us are teenagers, though," Potter answers, deciding to ignore the rest of her rant. She just nods thoughtfully.

"You live with your aunt and uncle, don't you?"

Potter stiffens. "Yes, but if you're asking about our past, I'd rather not share."

"Oh!" Hermione gasps, turning red. "Oh, no, not at all, I'm sorry! I was just so curious, I suppose I'm firing off questions without even thinking of them first."

"It's alright," Potter offers, but he's more nervous than he's willing to let on. He's not a science experiment! He's not a freak show freak. He knows that it's strange, but…

"Hermione, you can't… you can't tell anyone, alright?"

Potter's pleased to see the betrayal that flashes through her eyes as she promises, "oh, no! Of course not, Ha—Potter. I won't tell a soul. I'm so sorry for bothering you, really, I was just worried. Tell me if there's anything that I can do to help, alright? Really, anything at all."

"Class is about to start," Potter points out, and she turns white and dashes off without waiting for an answer. Potter sighs and sinks to the floor. He ignores the urge to hide under a table, and one of child alters runs back off inside.

_That went well, _he cautiously comments to Harry. Harry shrugs in response. Slightly irked, Potter continues, _at least she's interested. Fascination is better than fear, at least._

_For now. But how long will she want to talk to keep talking to us once she realizes just how fucked up we really are?_

Potter has no answer.

XXX

Time passes, though, and Hermione seems no closer than she was before to abandoning them. She remains highly curious, but she begins to sober a bit as she adjusts to the situation. She makes an effort to talk with Harrison and indulge his obsessions. She watches closely as Snake and Draco laugh at the Gryffindor's expense. Though she obviously doesn't like Jay, as the two have very different opinions on what it means to be a Gryffindor, she makes an effort to engage her in conversation that doesn't involve cursing Snape or Harry. Hermione and Lily become much closer friends once Hermione understands why Harry doesn't always act like Lily does.

Hermione doesn't like James much, and she goes quiet whenever he and Ron begin to chat. She doesn't talk to him much herself, but she starts to look thoughtful whenever she sees him. When Ron makes ignorant comments, she no longer winces. Now, she looks calculating.

It feels like only days later when she poses her question to Harry. "I understand why you want to keep your condition a secret, I really do. But is it really right to let Ron think that you're so prejudiced?"

_I'm not prejudiced! _James insists. Harry barely spares him a glance.

"What are you suggesting? He would be furious if he knew how well we sometimes relate to other Slytherins. You know that he wouldn't approve."

"Well… "Hermione shifts her weight awkwardly. James groans.

_ Oh, don't play ignorant, Harry! We both know what she means._

"Hermione," Potter says, taking front, "we're not going to tell Ron. He knows nothing about muggle conditions. He would think we're insane. Besides, I thought you barely liked him yourself? Why are you so eager to have him know?"

_Hold on. I don't mind Ron knowing, not at all!_

_Yes, James, you've made that perfectly clear. Problem is, __**I**__ don't want him knowing. You know he wouldn't react well, you know that!_

Unaware of the inner battle, Hermione continues, "Well… it just must be a lot for you to have to handle on your own, that's all. I think you need more allies."

"You think we need more allies," Potter's eyes narrow, "or you want someone you can discuss us with?" Hermione turns red and begins to sputter. "I thought so."

"Now hold on a second!" James demands, and Hermione starts. She's still not used to how quickly they can switch. James grins for a moment before he gets annoyed again. "I've been wanting to tell Ron for months. Why does Lily get to let her best friend in on the secret while my friend gets left in the dark?"

_Because your friend is an ignorant arse who would try to lock us up in the loony bin!"_

"He is not!" James realizes that he's spoken allowed, but quickly dismisses it. He's never been one for embarrassment. "Sure, Hermione. I'll gladly tell him."

"James…?" She hazards a guess, and James rolls his eyes.

"Yes, Hermione, this is James speaking. And it will be me speaking later, when we let Ron know about us."

_You can't do this._

_Like you can stop me, _James retorts. _Look, it's not like Harry cares._ While Potter tries to confront Harry, James agrees to meet Ron in their dorms later. That's another advantage; with Ron knowing, they won't feel the need to hole up with just Hermione so often. See, this is a brilliant idea! And if it inspires Potter to never speak to him again, well, that's just all the better.

XXX

Note: Sorry for taking so long to write this chapter, especially after the cliff hanger ending! There were finals and AP testing to worry about in addition to personal things. Still, now that it's summer, I'll try to write faster. For that matter, I'll try to get another chapter out by the end of next week, but I can't promise anything. I'm sorry that this chapter doesn't have the same quality as usual, but I wasn't really sure how to handle it.

As always, thank you all for all the lovely reviews, and thank you to those who favorited or subscribed.

Taylor 1991: I'm glad that you enjoy my story! I definitely plan to continue it for as long as possible. Hopefully, like I said, the updates will be more consistent now. Thank you for the reviews. ^.^


	23. Chapter 23

Everyone else is in their common rooms, and James hopes that they won't get caught. He's brought their invisibility cloak, just in case, but Ron and Hermione have no such protection. With any luck, they'll all be back in their dorms before curfew, but he's not quite sure. It might take a while to explain everything to Ron, after all, and if Ron starts asking new questions, Hermione's sure to follow his example.

As usual, they meet in the library, though this time, it's more so they can easily excuse their actions if someone does see them. Hermione manages to get there before James, but it takes Ron another few minutes to come dragging in.

"What was so urgent that we had to meet right away?" he gripes, shooting Hermione an irritated glare. James realizes that he thinks Hermione wants to show him more research about the stone, and he can't help but snicker. Ron glares at him, too, and James gleefully makes a face at him.

"Oh, calm down, Ronald! This is important." Hermione takes a deep breath and looks at James. "You should really be the one to tell him, you know."

James shrugs and levels a stare at Ron. "We have multiple personalities."

Ron's mouth drops open, and Hermione turns red. "Maybe… maybe you should have been a little more gentle…"

"Wow," Ron says once he recovers a bit. He's choking slightly on his laughter, but he seems more frustrated than anything else. "Good joke, man. Now what am I really here for?"

"No joke," James insists, "We have Multiple Personality Disorder. Long story short, I'm not Harry, and I never have been. Name's James, nice to formally meet ya, since well, we've kind of known each other since the beginning, but whatever."

"This isn't really that funny. Really, Harry. Cut it out."

"I'm not joking." James stubbornly crosses his arms across his chest, Ron takes a step forwards with clenched fists, and Hermione quickly intervenes.

"Think about it, Ron. You've said yourself how different he seems sometimes. Remember that time in potions when he swore at Snape? And even you must have noticed how he was almost a different person when talking to one or another of us. Well, he actually is different people, so that would be why! And you— James, you to learn to be more subtle!"

"You believe him?" Ron asks, slowly glancing from one to the other. Hermione firmly nods, and Ron turns a bit white. He lowers himself slowly into a chair and just stares for a minute. "So you're not Harry?" he finally asks. James just shakes his head, and Ron groans. "Where the hell is Harry, then?"

"_Where_ is Harry? The hell do you mean by that? I can show him to you, if you want. He just didn't want to talk to you right because you're kind of my friend, not his. Dude, you barely even know Harry."

"Right," Ron says, gulping a bit. He stands back up and shoots an accusatory look at James. "Alright, then. Just how many of you are there?"

"Well. There's me and Harry, obviously. Potter and Lily, Jay, Petal, Harrison, Snake…"

"Snake!" Ron interrupts, looking horrified. James just rolls his eyes.

"What, you didn't think _I_ was the one making friends with Draco, did you? As if!"

"So you are part Slytherin!"

"Some of us are Slytherins, yeah. So what? I'm not. Jay isn't. Relax, Ron, seriously. We're Gryffindor through and through, even Snake just exists cause Harry got all stupid about not fitting in. He's not really that brave, but even he's not a real snake."

"But part of you is evil!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ronald!" Hermione exclaims. James hushes her quickly.

"Look, Ron. I know this is a lot to take in at once. But we've not evil, I promise. I used to be weary of that, too, trust me! But they've been pretty good since we got here. Sure, Potter's a git, but he's a decent enough git. And yeah, Snake sucks, but he's barely even out. I think he's just here to shut Draco up, honestly. He's not even like the rest of us, he blacks out half the time anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asks, distracted by the new topic.

"Well, we can see what the rest of us are doing, you know? Like, Potter's off pouting in a corner somewhere inside the head, and Harry's with him, probably watching to make sure that I don't say anything too stupid. But Snake apparently can't see out anymore even if he wanted to. Which is fine with me, you know. Good riddance!"

Finally, Ron seems appeased. "So you really are a Gryffindor, huh?" When James nods, he breaks into a wide smile, which James quickly mirrors. "Well, you know what they say. The enemy of my enemy is my friend! Just don't let Snake do anything too horrible, and I don't see why you and I can't get along. You and… who's the other Gryffindor, again?"

"Jay. You'll like her, I promise. She's my twin sister, and she hates the snakes! You've seen her in potions, she was the one who got onto Snake."

"Awesome!" Ron laughs.

Hermione frowns. "Is it really good for you all to be so divided? Shouldn't you be looking for a way to get along better?" But James just brushes her off.

XXXXX

_What is wrong with you?_ Potter turns on James the moment they reach the common room, and James has to struggle not to react until they're safely in their dorm.

_I don't know what you're talking about. I think that that went pretty well, actually._

_Pretty well?! For one thing, I don't think Ron actually has the slightest idea what you're talking about. Part Slytherin? None of us are parts! Part evil? None of us are bloody evil! And he better not get along well with Jay, considering what a bitch she is!_

_Don't you dare call my sister a bitch!_

_I'll call her whatever the hell I want to call her! She's a persecutor no better than Petal, and you know it!_

_What the hell am I, then? We're the exact same!_

_A bloody idiot, that's what you are. _Furious, Potter mentally turns away, blocking James and ending the conversation.

_That… that… I finally get a friend for myself, and this is how he reacts? Shoulda known that none of them gave a rat's ass about me. No, it's all about bloody Potter and his feelings, his friends! No one cares what I want, of course not, _James mutters viciously to himself. After a moment, he, too, disappears inside.

Harry stares silently after him. For yet another night, he gets no sleep.

XXXXX

A/N: Thanks as always to all the reviewers and to those who favorited or subscribed!

I figured after how slow I was to update before, updating again quickly couldn't hurt, even if it is a pretty short chapter. I hope it's still enjoyable.


	24. Chapter 24

James and Ron high five, and Harry can practically feel Malfoy's glare burning into the back of his head. He wants to just join the Slytherin and get this over with, but Jay is taking her sweet time packing up, organizing everything in their bag.

_Enough, _Harry mutters, _there's no reason to antagonize him, honestly. _Jay disagrees, but after their quill is neatly tucked away, she grudgingly joins Draco as they walk to Transfiguration. At least Slytherin doesn't share that class with another house. For once, Harry almost prefers that they were headed to History of Magic. At least there's no way that James and Jay would remain close then.

"So," Draco sulks, interrupting his thoughts, "you and Weasley, huh?"

"Draco, we've been over this before," Harry points out, trying not to feel too irritated.

"Yes, but that was before you started talking to him during class! Potter-" Harry winces. It's never a good thing when Draco's referring to him by his last name.

_Oh get over it, _Jay laughs.

"-you spend all of your time with those… those…!" Draco throws up his hands in disgust, as if he can't even think of a word bad enough to describe Ron and Hermione. "Look, I'm just warning you. If you spend too much time with the other houses, people are going to think that you're a traitor."

"I talk with you every evening, don't I?"

"Sure, after you're done meeting with the blood traitor and Mudblood!" Draco pauses to shake his head in disgust. Then he stops completely as something occurs to him. "You don't have a crush on her, do you? Because I swear Potter, she's nothing special. Are you blind? Even ignoring her blood-"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Now annoyed, Harry walks quickly, leaving Draco hurrying to keep up, muttering "I'm just saying" under his breath.

To Harry's relief, after a bit of grumbling, both Jay and James leave, and he settles down for class.

XXXXX

It's a tentative balance, but for a few more days, Harry manages it. Somehow, Potter manages to convince James not to bug Draco too much, and though far more reluctantly, Jay follows his lead. Lily still dislikes Ron, but it's rare that she'll have to face one Gryffindor without the other, so she's certainly not a problem. At first, Petal was murderous with rage over Harry leaking the secret, but when she saw that absolutely nothing was going to be done about it, she calmed down, and watching Harry struggle to keep everyone happy seemed to amuse her. He was allowed breakfast, at least, so he can only assume that she isn't going to blow up at him anytime in the near future.

It's Friday, and he has double Potions with the Gryffindors. Snape is in a bad mood, and Jay is silently seething. After a few spats nearly turned into a full out fistfight this morning, there's no interhouse communication. There's little talking at all. Even though everyone's just working in silence, or as close to it as possible, Snape's still wandering the rows and snapping at everyone. Points are being taken left and right, even from the Slytherins, and Harry's sick of it. Even Potter, quick as he usually is to stand up for Snape, agrees that it's miserable. Only Jay's willingly paying much attention to the outside world, and she's absorbed in her potion.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Snape snaps at Neville. The poor boy looks like he's going to cry. Jay's almost snaps the handle off of their cauldron in irritation. Beside her, Draco snickers, and she glares so darkly he takes a step back in shock.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" Jay turns her glare on Snape.

"Not at all," she smiles. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ron's mouth drop open in surprise. He and Hermione exchange glances.

"Boy," Ron loudly whispers, "Snape must be in an awful mood if he's even picking on the Slytherins!" Snape whirls around, and Jay breathes a sigh of relief. Good old Gryffindor bravery. Not even she would be happy about annoying Snape right now!

Especially not with her head already feeling so funny.

_Shit!_ Potter tries to take front, but Snake is already looking around in confusion. After a moment, he seems to accept the lapse of time, and he turns to work on their potion. He's not nearly as good as Jay was, but with Draco's help, they manage. Thankfully, even Snake is smart enough to remain quiet right now.

Finally, the bell is ringing. The students practically run out of the room in a mad dash to reach lunch. Draco and Snake end up beside Ron and Hermione.

"You're welcome," Ron jokes. Snake stares at him in confusion.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

For a moment, Ron seems caught off guard. Then he takes in Snake's posture and the way he's standing closer to Draco than to himself, and his eyes narrow. He mutters, "bloody Snake."

Snake's face turns red. "Listen here, you little blood traitor—"

"Guys!" Hermione shrilly intervenes, but Ron is already darting forward, fists raised, and Snake is laughing as if Ron won't do it. Behind Snake, Draco looks more than slightly confused, but he doesn't seem to mind this turn of events in the slightest.

"Back off, Weasley," he sneers, "or someone might tell mummy that the runt of the pack is misbehaving."

"Oh, stop it!" Hermione insists, trying to get between Ron and the two Slytherins, but Snake is sneering at Ron, and Ron pushes past her. He's just got his hand around Snake's collar, and Snake's preparing to hex him away, when a low drawl makes everyone freeze.

"And what, may I ask, is going on here?"

"Professor!" Hermione says in horror. Snape eyes her coolly.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"But—" Ron starts to protest.

"For each of you." Snape raises an eyebrow, daring someone else to speak up. No one does, and he walks briskly off, calling back behind him "detention with Hagrid at midnight. Do _not_ be late." Ron turns to Snake, ready to curse him out, but notices that the boy is holding his head and looks a bit sick.

"Harry…?" Hermione carefully asks. The boy just shrugs, wincing as he laughs.

"Come on," Draco intervenes, grabbing Potter by the wrist and pulling him along, shooting a dark glare behind him. Ron makes a face back, and Hermione just rolls her eyes before turning to lecture her friend.

XXXXX

"You can't take us into the forest! Bloody hell Hagrid, it's called the Forbidden Forest for a reason!"

Hagrid barely glances at Ron. "Well, I don' have much o' a choice. Somethin's been hurtin' the unicorns, an' I need ter find out what."

"Hagrid," says Hermione carefully, "have you been crying?" The big man shrugs, but he shoots a mournful glance at the table. Potter notes that the dragon egg is gone. Dumbledore must have sent it away, then.

"Well, come on, then!" Hagrid says gruffly. "We're goin' ter split up. Ron, Hermione, yeh're comin' with me."

"Well, we want Fang, then!" Draco says. Potter notes the higher than usual pitch of his voice.

"Sure. I should warn yeh, he's a wimp." Potter holds his breath for a moment, trying to calm himself. That makes two of them, then; Draco looks horrified. Lovely. It looks like it will be up to him to keep the others safe.

They set off into the forest. If one ignores how even the lantern barely makes a dent in the shadowy dark, then Potter supposes that it's not too bad. Beside him, Draco is chattering nervously away to fill the silence. Potter wishes that he'd stop. If there is danger, he wants to be able to hear it coming. Behind him, Angry nods his agreement, lured to front by the injustice of the situation. Apparently, their frustration towards various teachers and classmates over the past few weeks has built up.

"What's that?" Draco demands.

"I'm not sure," Potter admits, holding up the lantern and squinting. "Draco, maybe you shouldn't be here right now."

"I'm not going to leave you." But his voice quivers, and he takes a step back when the wail repeats.

"Leave." Angry glares ahead into the darkness. "Just get somewhere safe. Take Fang with you. I'll join you in a moment; I just want to take care of something first. Maybe knock some sense into Hagrid."

When the next wail is louder, Draco obeys and darts off into the forest. Fang dashes ahead of him, and Angry bitterly smirks. Without hesitation, he sets off towards the noise. Protecting innocents has always been his job, and what could more innocent than a unicorn?

Moonlight trickles eerily into the clearing, and Angry's blood boils with fury. The unicorn is already dead, and some shadowy figure is drinking its blood. Sick! Absolutely sick. Despite the power that Angry can feel thrumming from the wraith, he raises his wand and prepares to fight. The figure turns—

Angry falls to the ground, head exploding. His scar is burning, _burning. _Something inside of them is thrashing, crawling closer to the surface of their mind, awakening from a long, cold slumber… the figure is attacking. Within moments, they'll be dead.

Then there's a shadow over them, and the wraith is retreating. The slow burning fades, and Angry finds himself facing a centaur. Unsure how to cope, he mentally steps back and allows Potter to stand on shaky legs.

"Thank you, sir," Potter says quietly. The centaur nods deeply at him.

"Get on my back, Harry Potter. You are not safe here." Reluctantly, Potter climbs onto the centaur and allows himself to be carried through the forest. He feels eyes on his back, and he gets the feeling that the centaur isn't meant to be doing this. He's very, very grateful, though he's not sure how to express this.

The centaur stops. "This is where I leave you. You are safe now. Good luck, Harry Potter. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

Potter isn't quite sure what he means by that, but as the centaur is leaving, he can't resist calling out, "wait! What's your name?"

"My name is Firenze," he answers, bowing.

"Thank you, Firenze," Potter tells him, bowing back. He notices two other centaurs hiding in the shadows, but they make no move, so he pretends not to see them. Instead, he finds himself asking, "Why would anyone drink the blood of a unicorn?"

Firenze shivers. "The one who drinks the blood of a unicorn will be granted eternal life, but it will be a cursed life. To take the life of something so pure is true evil."

"That was Voldemort, then." Firenze nods, and Potter feels his fists curl. So it must be Voldemort who seeks the Sorcerer's Stone. Was it Snape who was trying to steal it, then? People say that Snape used to be a Death Eater. Could he again be working for his master?

Angry turns to meet the sound of Hagrid rushing up with Ron and Hermione. Hermione meets his eyes and nods; Draco's safe, likely just unwilling to reenter the forest. Hagrid exchanges a few words with Firenze, thanking him for his help, but Angry can't be bothered to care.

_Voldemort killed our parents? He's the reason we had to live with those scum? _Potter nods in response. Angry's smile is vicious.

_Then I suppose we'll have to kill him._

XXXXX

_A/N: Sorry for the long pause between updates. I actually went down to Hogwarts (Harry Potter World in Universal), though, so I have no regrets! :P Still, I hope that this chapter makes up for the break at least a little bit. If I take too long to update, feel free to review just to poke me. ^^;_

_As always, thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, and subscribed!_

_Taylor1991: Oh, wow! Thank you so much for the long review. I should note that Harry is aware that he's been abused, though to what extent, he's clueless. There are certain things that his alters hold that he not only doesn't remember, but has absolutely no desire to remember. I'm glad that you're enjoying this!_


	25. Chapter 25

"We need to get the stone!" James insists. Hermione still looks unsure, but Ron is nodding grimly. Potter's already told them what happened in the forest, and neither of them is stupid. If Voldemort could get his hands on the stone, he would be immortal. The wizarding world can't afford to face him again, not so soon, and Harry himself would have little chance of surviving. There's no chance that the man would wait long, either. Already so close to his goal, Voldemort must be moving soon. For a while, Hermione had managed to convince the others that the stone was safe with Dumbledore, but now Dumbledore has been called off by the Ministry for who knows how long. Time is running out.

"Are you sure that we shouldn't tell McGonagall?" Hermione tries one last time. James stubbornly shakes his head.

"You and Ron already tried to warn her about Snape, remember? She didn't believe you. And with Dumbledore gone, it's not like there's anyone else we can turn to, either." For a long moment, Hermione doesn't respond, and James begins to fear that they'll have to leave without her. For once, the entire system is in agreement. This is something that they have to do, with or without backup. Finally, though, Hermione nods her consent, and they all start off for the third floor. The invisibility cloak barely fits all three of them, and James has a tendency to try and walk faster than the other two, but somehow, they get there in one piece and again slip into the chamber that contains Fluffy.

James breathes a sigh of relief when the dog is already asleep. An enchanted harp is playing in the corner, and that seems to be all that was needed. He was afraid that they were going to have to rely on Lily again—not that he doesn't trust Lily, not at all, but it was still a frightening proposal.

"Alright," he whispers once they've gotten the trap door open, "I'll go first." Without waiting for a response, he drops down into the dark. He lands a few moments later, and, discovering that the ground beneath him is soft, calls down to instruct the others to join him.

Of course, it's only once they've all landed that they realize what they've landed on.

"Stay still!" Hermione demands, "Devil's Snare—Devil's Snare, it likes the dark and damp…"

"It's going to choke me!" Ron panics, struggling to free himself from the tendrils reaching his neck. "What are we going to do? It's got our arms!"

Even James is beginning to panic. Unlike Hermione, he finds remaining still to be a struggle, and he doesn't have the faintest idea how to cast a fire without wood.

_Like this. _And then light is shining throughout the room and the plant quickly retreats. The three quickly scramble up into the ledge beside the pit.

"Way to go Lily!" James cheers.

"She did that without a wand?" Hermione asks in amazement, and Ron rolls his eyes.

"Not the time!"

James voices his agreement and hurries on to the next room, Ron and Hermione running to keep up behind him. He stops abruptly in the doorway, staring at the little winged things fluttering around by the high ceiling.

"Keys," Lily breaths.

"Shouldn't be too hard, then," James grins.

Meanwhile, Hermione has rushed across the room and is trying to open the door. Failing, she calls out, "you need an old key, big and old fashioned, probably silver like the handle."

"Got it!" James mounts the broom and rises into the air, scanning the room around him. The keys fail to react; he had been hoping that maybe the real key would have tried to retreat, or something.

"That one," Lily suddenly says, "the one on the right, flying by the second to last beam, about midway. Someone's touched it recently. Look, its wing is crooked."

"How do you even see these things?" James wonders. Regardless, he doesn't pause before shooting forwards. The key does its best to evade capture, but he's not the youngest Quidditch player in a decade for nothing. He manages to pin it up against a wall, almost breaking its already fragile wings. "Got it!" James hollers again, swooping back down and jumping off the broom. He shoves the key into the lock and turns it. The resulting click makes his grin widen to an almost impossible length.

It falls when he sees the next room. "Chess?"

"I suppose we'll have to play our way across," Ron determines. Reluctantly, James withdraws inside. He's never been good at chess, and he's not fond of the idea of standing there and taking orders on where to move. Lily takes his place and obediently replaces one of the bishops. She does what she's told without hesitation. When Ron willingly sacrifices himself, she doesn't make an effort to stop him, though one could almost see her respect for him grow. Once the game is won, she follows Hermione to the next room in silence. They pass an already knocked out troll and enter a long room with seven bottles displayed on a table. Behind and in front of them, two different fires alight.

"_Brilliant_," Hermione says, smiling brightly as she finishes reading the accompanying roll of paper, "this isn't magic—it's logic—a puzzle. A lot of great wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"There's only enough in each for one person, though," Lily points out. Hermione nods and smiles grimly.

"This one," she says, lifting the smallest bottle, "will take you through the black fire—to Snape. This," she lifts the round bottle at the end of the line, "will take me back to Ron." She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Har-" she catches herself and verbally stumbles on. "I suppose you have to be the one to face him."

"That's okay—really, it is. I'll let Harry himself handle it. We'll be fine."

Hermione nods and swallows the potion, trembling a bit. "It's like ice… Listen, I'll get Dumbledore. Alright? The broomsticks, Ron and I, we'll get help…"

"Hermione, it might wear off soon. Please go." To Lily's surprise, Hermione pulls her into a hug before rushing off. To Lily's immense relief, Hermione makes it through unharmed. Lily takes a deep breath and disappears inside. A moment later, Harry is left staring at the potion he needs to take. He picks it up and gulps quickly, grimacing. It really does feel like ice is spreading through his veins. It's not pleasant.

Harry enters the final chamber fully expecting to be met by Voldemort himself. Everyone inside is still clamoring close to the front, yearning to watch the possible destruction of their first and greatest enemy but wouldn't they prefer to kill Vernon, if given the chance?, but Harry can feel them fading away. Freakazoid struggles the hardest to stay with him, but Harry discards him, as well. This is his battle. He's so useless in the rest of their life, this victory should be his. He owes it to the others to defeat Voldemort, but really, the grudge is far more personal to him than it could ever be to them. If Voldemort had never killed their parents, Harry would never have needed alters in the first place. He would have been normal. _Sane_. Not the fucked up mess of a freak that he is now. Oh, he will make the man pay or die trying. Maybe he'll get lucky, and both of their paths will end here.

But it's Quirrell who turns to meet Harry, and the disappointment is so sharp that Harry almost wants to kill him just for not being Voldemort. He nods briskly at the professor, fingers curling up at his sides, imaging a neck between them to wring. Quirrell, though calm at first, looks a bit shocked at the expressions that must be crossing Harry's face. Harry tries to smile, this is a professor, he's here to help, here to protect the Stone from Voldemort, but he might be snarling instead. Oops.

Then he realizes that it doesn't matter. No, Quirrell is here to steal that Stone. That's why he's advancing forward like that. Fucking lovely.

"So it was you, huh?" Harry laughs bitterly. "What next? Snape's spell was to defend me?"

The nasty smirk on Quirrell's face tells him everything that he needs to know. That doesn't stop the professor from talking. "He was at school with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you _dead_."

"Now, Potter," he says, and with a wave of his wand, ropes have appeared around Harry's body—"I need to examine this interesting mirror."

Harry realizes with a jolt that it's the Mirror of Erised. "You idiot," he laughs, and Quirrell tenses, "that only shows you what you desire most. It's all _lies._" When Quirrell looks back at him, he elaborates. "Mirror of Erised? Mirror of Desire? God, you're slow."

For a moment, he remembers his own vision from the mirror, and it makes him want to laugh. All of his alters getting along? No, not even that. All of them having their own bodies, their own lives, not trapped, forced to deal with his stupid mistakes and take over his life when he's fucked it up too badly. What a nice dream. Nice delusion. Never going to happen.

"If the mirror is here, it must be the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell insists, though he does look shaken. Harry just spits in his direction. Quirrell ignores him this time, muttering, "I don't understand… is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?"

"Go ahead. Break the key to the mirror. Bloody brilliant, you are," Harry snarls. He tries to break the ropes but only manages to lose his balance and fall over. He could scream, if only he didn't want to distract Quirrell from doing something stupid!

"Help me, Master!" Quirrell cries out in despair. To Harry's horror, a voice answers, and it seems to be coming from Quirrell himself, though the man's lips aren't moving.

"Use the boy… Use the boy…"

Quirrell turns on Harry. "Yes—Potter—come here." He claps his hands, and Harry is free. He considers ignoring the command but figures that he'll be forced into this no matter what he tries. Sullen, he joins Quirrell by the mirror.

His jaw drops. His reflection is smiling at him. It pulls a blood red stone out of its pocket, winks, and returns it. Harry feels his own pocket grow suddenly heavier. Did he…? Does he have the Stone?

"Well?" Quirrell says impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry pauses, reaches for his courage, and decides to fuck it all. "I see my uncle dead." He blinks innocently up at Quirrell, who seems more than a bit shocked by this new development. The man's face is screwing up in anger, but he seems just the slightest bit nervous. Harry openly laughs, walking away. Screw Quirrell. Stuttering or not, the man is a fool.

But he doesn't get far.

"He lies… he lies…" The voice is high pitched and nasally. Harry winces as it continues. "Let me speak to him… face-to-face…"

Despite Quirrell's protests, the man begins to unravel his turban. Harry stands rooted to the spot, filled with almost as much morbid fascination as terror. But then Quirrell is turning, and all Harry wants to do is throw up. Staring out at him is another face, a chalk white face with red eyes and slit nostrils. "Harry Potter…" it whispers.

"Voldemort," Harry says, and suddenly he's shaking. As desperately as some part of his mind is screaming to run, to get away, and though he must be almost frozen in terror, all Harry can think about is the white hot fury over taking him. When the thing begins speaking again, Harry finds himself laughing. "Don't bother," he smiles viciously, only distantly aware of the hysterical edge to his voice, "if you're going to try to convince me to give you the stone, don't even fucking bother. You murdered my parents. I'd rather die a thousand times over than help you. You drank unicorn blood to live a cursed life? Oh, that's nothing to what I'll do to you…"

Voldemort's face turns dark and cruel. "Kill him," he says, and something deep and dark and ugly responds to the waves of shock and terror running through Harry's body. Suddenly, Harry's falling forwards, but while the body catches itself mid-fall, he doesn't.

And then _something_ is staring out from behind the body's eyes. Magic swirls through the body, almost burning the skin with its intensity…

Hateful manages to grab hold of front. For a moment, the world freezes. He can read the terror on Quill's face; the man had walked closer, expecting to pin Harry down and murder him, but now that the magic is surrounding him, it seems that he's as cowardly as ever. Hateful doesn't know how Voldemort feels, but he hopes that this will be painful.

And then the magic is released and the air is pierced with an inhuman scream. Hateful laughs, delighted by the sensation, and the thing behind him would be grinning if it had a body. He can't see; the world around him is fading. The flash of light stole his vision, and the deafening screech stole his hearing, but he doesn't care. His muscles are liquid. He falls to the ground beside their wand, useless. It's probably good that Harry's wand has never been compatible with him; the burst of magic would have shattered it, he's sure.

As he fades, he hears the thing laughing.

XXXXX

_A/N: Just one more chapter and then the second year starts! I'm so excited, you have no idea! That one's where the clear distinction from cannon begins, and things start falling apart a little bit. Should be fun!_

_ Also, I feel the need to note that James was out a lot this chapter. Sometimes, that just happens with DID; a certain alter will stay in front for long periods of time, even if someone else is switching in or co-con with them._

_In regards to Harry himself, remember that whether he remembers the abuse or not, he is a trauma survivor, and he can be very, very bitter at times._

_As always, thanks to all who commented, faved, and followed._

_Taylor1991_: _Thanks for the lovely review! As for the number of alters that Harry has, at the moment, it's 20, but that's including fragments (lesser developed alters who only hold one job or memory and have a limited emotional range). Not all of them will receive the same amount of attention because some of them only occasionally front._


	26. Chapter 26: End of Book 1

He wakes up with his head pounding.

"Hello, Harry," someone says, and he wants to claw off his ears, but his limbs are too heavy to move. Slowly, he cracks upon his eyes and automatically shuts them again. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the ache in his lungs, he tries again. After a moment, his eyes adjust to the light and he realizes that it's Dumbledore sitting at the edge of his bed. He feels a rush of panic. He can't fake anything right now! Thankfully, that doesn't seem to be what Dumbledore's concerned with.

"Well done, dear boy. Well done."

Harry tries to nod, feels a sharp pain shoot through his head, and reconsiders it. "The Stone?" he manages to ask.

"Ah yes. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. It seemed that you did very well to prevent that. By the time that I arrived, he was no longer a threat. The effort involved nearly killed you, however. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"What happened to your friend? Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asks, feeling a vague sense of guilt. After all, if he hadn't tried to chase after the Stone, it's unlikely that Quirrell would have been able to remove it from the mirror. And it sounds like Dumbledore arrived soon after Harry had fainted, so surely he would have been able to take on Voldemort's weakened state! Harry never should have tried to interfere.

Dumbledore's voice breaks through Harry's thoughts, though the man seems to be mid speech: "… agreed it's all for the best."

"So he's going to die."

"He and Perenelle have enough Elixer stored to set their affairs in order and then yes, they will die. It's not such a bad thing, really. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure…"

Harry tunes the man out again. He really can't be bothered to care at the moment. When there seems to be a period of silence, he asks, "And Voldemort? Is he really gone?"

"No, Harry, he is not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share… not being truly alive, he cannot be killed."

"Why did he want to kill me?" Harry finds himself asking. Interrupting, really. How rude of him. He still doesn't care.

"You were in his way, dear boy!" Dumbledore exclaims. Harry's sure that it must be more complex than that, but Dumbledore is changing the subject. "Surely, you must be curious why he was unable to do so?"

He isn't. He knows exactly why Voldemort couldn't kill him; it's a little hard to kill someone when you've been "killed" first. But he's curious to know what Dumbledore thinks happened, so he moves his head in a vague semblance of a nod.

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark—" For a moment, Harry feels sick. His mother couldn't have been the only person to sacrifice herself for her child during the war. So where are all these other Voldemort-immune children? Why did none of them defeat the Dark Lord? Dumbledore, he realizes, must be flat out lying. And he's not done yet. "—It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Harry wants to laugh, but he's sure that it would hurt badly even if he knew better than to do so. Instead, he examines the brightly colored objects surrounding his bed in what must be the hospital wing.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," Dumbledore beams. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

Harry makes note of the fact that he neglects to mention Draco. He's too tired to bring it up, though. Perhaps later.

XXXXX

Harry's barely gotten settled to life outside of the hospital again when Dumbledore calls him to his office. He supposes that the headmaster hadn't wanted to say anything too upsetting before and wonders what he's in store for now. At least now that he's not so out of it, James and Potter have rejoined him, furious as they might be that he blocked them during the actual fight.

"Come in," Dumbledore instructs, and they again sit before the headmaster. "And who am I talking to?" Dumbledore asks. Harry wonders why he didn't ask that before. Perhaps he assumed (correctly, Harry grudgingly admits) that Harry would want to take the fight for himself? Or maybe he thought that only Harry would have been able to use "the power of love" or whatnot against Voldemort. But how could he have known that Harry would be there when they woke up?

"James," the alter quickly intervenes, grinning cheekily.

"Marvelous to see you again, dear boy! May I ask how everyone is adjusting?"

"Pretty good," James says nonchalantly, leaning back in the chair.

"Good!" Dumbledore exclaims, eyes twinkling. "I knew that you all had it in you! I was so pleased when I saw that you had once again defeated Voldemort."

"It was no problem, really," James shrugs, though Harry can feel the flash of annoyance that accompanies those words. He mentally apologizes, but Dumbledore laughs.

"No, I suppose that for you all, it wasn't!" But then he sobers a bit. "If you there are any problems in the future, I would like to ask that you come to me. I'm truly sorry that I was not there to protect you—yes, I am well aware that my help was not required! But it concerns me, how much you must have had to struggle with on your own. I am very happy that you have Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger with you, but I'm not sure that you can trust them with everything you must face; not everyone had to grow up so quickly, after all, and while I have complete faith in their character, I do not believe that they would be capable of handling some of your truths."

"They know that we have DID," James bites out without thinking in an effort to defend his friends. Potter silently groans.

"Really now!" Dumbledore says in wonder. "And how are they handling this?"

"Pretty good. I mean, yeah, they were a bit confused at first, but you know how Hermione is. I think she must have done more research than we have, at this point! Ron, well. Eh, he'll catch on."

"Well then! This is wonderful news! I can only hope that they continue to react so well."

Appeased, James smiles again and allows himself to engage in friendly chit chat for another few minutes. Even Potter looks relatively relaxed.

As even Ron has voiced concern that Dumbledore had allowed the trio to risk their lives stopping Voldemort, Harry isn't convinced that he should let his guard down just yet. Perhaps the man had gone out of his way to help them- sending Harry his father's invisibility cloak, showing him the mirror of Erised, and ensuring that he had enough magical knowledge before the fight- but it's yet another incidence of him letting Harry wander into danger, and he can't say that he likes how that feels.

And then Dumbledore is letting them go because they all need to go prepare for the end of year feast.

XXXXX

Potter can't help but smile as he looks around at the green and silver decorated great hall. He's not sure that he personally contributed much to Slytherin winning the house cup, but he feels proud nonetheless. It's a bit annoying how everyone keeps staring at him, but he assumes that that's what happens when one returns from spending a few days in the hospital. Well, that, and the rumors that must be spreading.

Thankfully, Dumbledore arrives before Potter can feel too awkward. He gives a quick speech and begins to discuss the house points. Potter winces when he says that Gryffindor is in last place, though his classmates are jeering. He feels sympathetic for Hufflepuff, as well, and claps politely for Ravenclaw. A few upperclassmen give him a strange look, but then his table is exploding with joy as Slytherin is named the winner. Potter claps harder then, still too composed to cheer, allowing himself to exchange a few words about how great this is with Draco, who looks ecstatic. This would be the seventh year in a row that Slytherin won, wouldn't it? Potter feels a bit bad for the other houses, and he knows that they probably assume that Slytherin was cheating somehow, but he's sure it was a well earned victory.

"Yes, yes, well done Slytherin," Dumbledore somehow says above the noise. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The entire great hall freezes. Potter feels a sudden chill. What's going on?

And then Dumbledore is giving out more points to Gryffindor. Fifty house points for Ron's game of chess, and they're past Hufflepuff. Once the cheering dies down, another fifty are awarded to Hermione for her brilliant logical display, and fifteen are given to Neville for apparently standing up to Ron and Hermione in an effort to protect them and the house. Gryffindor has past Ravenclaw.

Potter dully notes that he and the others are awarded sixty points for their effort, but that doesn't change Slytherin's standing, so it hardly matters. He chances a glance at the Ravenclaw table; they're understandably bitter. If he listens, he can hear a few people muttering that he should have been in Gryffindor so that maybe Slytherin could finally be beaten. He does understand the sentiment, but he's a bit amazed that Dumbledore's distributing points this late in the game anyway. Was it really fair to bump Gryffindor so much after already telling the other houses what their placement would have been?

"What's wrong, Potter?" Malfoy asks, side eying him. Potter can only look at him open mouthed, shocked that Draco actually paid enough attention to realize that he wasn't as happy as the others were. Maybe that's because he's the "hero" of the evening. Potter gives him a small smile and hopes that that will be enough for him.

_If nothing else_, he thinks as he settles down to eat, _at least James won't have the satisfaction of his house having won!_

XXXXX

Before they know it, they're home. And they finally appreciate how much of a blessing it is that the Dursleys don't realize they're not allowed to use magic outside of school. This will be a long summer…

XXXXX

_A/N: And we finish the first book! As always, thanks to all who reviewed, followed, and favorited. Don't worry, the break between books will be __just as long as__ no longer than every other! I'll post it in this story, still, because doing a different story for all seven books (hopefully) could be a pain._

_ Special thanks to Ilessthan3KH for all the reviews! I'm glad that you're enjoying this so much! I'll PM you with who each alter in the mirror was, okay? In particular interest to you is that yes, I do have DID. It's not exactly like I wrote it here, but the differences are more caused by differences in system set up. For example, I have a larger system (over 100 alters), but the alters don't front as often. As well, our core is actually less active; she did reach the point where we're scared to let her out by herself because it's just too much for her. In respect to amnesia, while most of us lose time to some extent, we have a sort of joint memory bank for day to day interactions. It keeps us looking normal to the outside world and prevents actual time loss, but according to the person who diagnosed us, our amnesia in regards to the past is still horrible. I personally can't remember much of anything before 5__th__ grade. It's just a big blank in my memory for the time in which we were being abused. And yes, alters can split to create other alters. That's how a lot of more specialized protectors are created, actually. Feel free to ask any other questions that you have!_

_ Taylor1991: I think that most fics have Snape as the one to discover Harry's DID because of a writing challenge that was issued years ago. I didn't want to take that route, though, because it didn't fit realistically with what I'm writing. Harry's system is trying its best to remain hidden, though, as you can see, they're not doing very well! The environmental change is taking a lot out of them, in that respect. They don't as of yet have anyone that they can really rely on to help them with their DID. You don't have to worry about Harry fading away completely, though; no matter how many times he splits, he'll still regain enough traits of his own that that's not a problem. The real worry, with DID, is that the core personality will hit their limit and enter a sort of hibernation in order to avoid having to deal with the outside world. In regards to Petal, yes, she's a persecutor, as well, and it would take a long time in therapy for her behaviors to grow less destructive. Also, off topic, but yes, Hogwarts was amazing! I can't recommend it strongly enough!_


	27. Book 2: Chapter 1

He doesn't want to get out of bed. After having spent an entire school year at Hogwarts, being "graciously gifted" with a bed at the Dursley's house was not something that made him happy. In fact, it made him downright furious. For years, his only bed had been a worn out mattress resting directly on the ground and a moth eaten blanket. The pillow had been nearly rock hard, and falling asleep had always been difficult. But he had never complained. He had never known better. He hadn't felt like he had _deserved_ better. But now the Dursley's have been forced by their fear of magic to accommodate this basic need, and the knowledge of just how much they neglected him before destroys him inside.

Of course, even now, they're not exactly welcoming. They don't dare to touch him, but he's very clearly an outsider in the family. He doesn't eat with them during meals. He cooks for them, and he must then sneak what little food that he can because they refuse to waste any on him. He's magical, they say. A freak. Surely he can conjure his own food!

Harry's never been so thankful for Lily in his life. There's no doubt in his mind that if she didn't have the magical skill that she does, he would have starved to death long ago. As it is, they're managing to get by. Now that he's not at Hogwarts, any idea of having more than the bare minimum has faded away. He does what he needs to do to survive. As much as he hates his relatives for it, he will be reduced to nothing more than wallpaper, a servant when they call and a hidden freak when they don't, and he will never say a word.

And hidden freak he currently is. If he leaves the room for any reason, he knows that his uncle's already frayed temper will snap. They have dinner guests over, and Harry is to remain silent, out of sight and out of mind. That's fine with him. He has no desire to be introduced as their disturbed nephew. But it doesn't matter because he's tired, a bone deep sort of tired that makes him wonder if he's getting enough food even with his magic pilfering, and he has nothing worth getting up for anyway. He's watched Harrison read and reread all of last year's text books (Vernon tried to lock them up with all his other school materials, but the resulting melt down was enough to terrify him into submission), and he's not sure that they should waste any energy on magic at the moment. He's not technically supposed to be doing any magic at all, but as it's all wandless, and he has no choice when it comes to feeding himself, he can't quite care. He even has no one to talk to; the others are silent inside. If things get any worse, he knows that he'll switch with Freak and that will be the end of it. He may not wake up for weeks, this time. It doesn't matter. They'll do whatever it takes.

There's a thumping noise, and Harry winces. "Please, Hedwig," he begs, "please just stay still." The Dursleys will explain it as something falling to the floor, perhaps as a pet cat locked upstairs, but he'll get hell for it later. He knows that his owl is bored, and really, he understands, but Vernon won't allow her to be let free for even an hour, so there's really nothing that he can do about it. Hedwig blames him anyway, of course- she's an owl, too stupid to understand the rules that Harry lives by- he can see it when she stares at him. It angers him more than he should. Sometimes, pictures flash through his head of strangling the bird to death. Fresh meat, right? That's usually right before he has some sort of break down, though, so it never lasts long. Potter usually switches out then and tries his best to keep the bird happy, and Lily will again wonder if she could spell the bird outside and back in without anyone noticing, and Harry just disappears as much as he can.

It doesn't help that nearly the entire summer has passed, and he hasn't heard a word from any of their friends. Ron had promised to invite Harry over to his house during the summer, Hermione had promised to do some more research and then contact Harry- Potter! No, Lily... Harrison?- with any questions that she might have, and Draco had seemed so smug about the chance to write to "Harry Potter!" that Harry almost wonders if the silence is because one or all of them are now dead. James, however, is convinced that everyone hates them, and he's becoming so bitterly nasty that not even Lily can stand him. Of course, Petal is ecstatic. She isn't even restricting food for once, but then, that's easily explained by the fact that there's no food to restrict in the first place!

And of course today is his birthday. Of bloody course. He's survived almost 12 years in this hell. Lucky him.

He's dropping back off to sleep when he's met with a loud "pop!" sound. Blearily, he opens his eyes and orientates himself, but it takes him another minute to be certain that he's not dreaming. In front of him stands a small creature with large, bat like ears and bulging green eyes. As Harry stares, it bows so low that its long, thin nose almost touches the carpet. Harry notices that it's wearing what could almost be described as a pillow case with holes for his arms and legs to go through.

"Harry Potter!" it exclaims with a voice so high in pitch that Harry winces. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honor it is…"

"Hello?" Potter tries, glancing anxiously over at the door and praying that the thing's voice didn't carry downstairs. "Thank you? Who are you…?" Behind him, Harry is still staring in shock, and Potter can't blame him. What he'd really like to ask is _what_ this thing is, but he supposes that that might be a bit rude.

"Dobby, sir," the thing answers. "Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf."

"Well, hello, Dobby." Potter glances again at the door. "I hate to be rude, but this may not be the best time for us to talk. I'm very pleased to meet you," he quickly adds as the house elf sadly hangs it head, "but… well, why are you actually here?"

"Dobby has come to tell you, sir… it is difficult, sir… Dobby wonders where to begin…"

Potter sighs. He can feel a migraine building, and he wishes that he had more patience. Thankfully, Lily joins him and prods him to ask, "would you like to take a seat, Dobby?"

"_S-sit down!"_ Dobby wails, "_Never… never ever…" _

It's crying very loudly. Horrified, Lily casts a silencing charm on the room. "S-sory," she stutters, "I'm so sorry, I didn't meant to offend you…"

"Offend Dobby!" the elf manages to choke, "Dobby has _never _been asked to sit down by a wizard—like an _equal _—"

"That's horrible," Lily exclaims. The elf just continues to sob, though it looks at her with such gratitude that she wriggles nervously on their bed. "I mean, really," she continues, "The wizards you've met—they can't be very good people, not if they don't even let you sit down!"

Dobby shakes his head. Then, without warning, he leaps up and starts banging his head on the window, shouting, "_Bad _Dobby!"

Potter quickly regains control of the body. Lily is terrified, and Harry is starting to fade into the shadows of their mind. "Please stop!" He hates the sudden panic in his voice. "Dobby, what the hell do you think that you're doing?!" He wrestles the thing back onto his bed and grips it's arm tightly, fear coursing through his body. _Vernon can't hear us_, he reminds himself again and again, but the terror doesn't ebb.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," says the elf. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir."

Lily gasps and is gone. Harry's suddenly more dominant again, anger clouding their mind. "Your family?" Potter manages to ask through gritted teeth.

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir… Dobby is a house-elf—bound to serve one house and one family forever."

"Then they're not your family!"

Dobby jumps, startled by the venom in Potter's voice. Potter takes a deep breath before continuing, but his voice is still shaking. "If someone… if _anyone_ is that cruel to you… doesn't treat you like an equal, doesn't even show you common courtesy, asks you to punish yourself for daring to hint that they're doing something wrong… that is NOT a family! That's a bunch of low life…" He has to stop. He refuses to cry in front of this over sized Muppet.

Fearfully, the house elf says, "Dobby has no choice, sir. The family will never set Dobby free… Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir."

Potter has to sit down and rest his head on his knees. He wants to throw up. Somehow, it had never occurred to him before that he wasn't the only one suffering like this. Logically, of course, he had known that others had situations even worse than his own. The Dursleys never hesitated to remind him that he was lucky. He had a roof over his head, clothes on his back, and food in his stomach. They beat him, but not so badly that he might die. And at least they didn't—

But to actually see that others are trapped like he is… some part of him is furious that anyone should have to suffer like he does, and the intensity of his emotions scare him. He's never felt this overwhelming rage on his behalf. He considers himself below the others, somehow deserving of what comes to him. Even now, he hates himself for daring to think of himself, have pity on himself, when obviously this poor creature is so much worse off.

"Can I help?" Potter asks desperately, forcing himself to meet Dobby's eyes. But the elf just resumes crying.

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby… Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew…"

Potter doesn't feel great or good. He feels like he's about to be sick. He closes his eyes tightly, and when he reopens them, he finds the elf staring at him intently.

"Harry Potter is valiant and bold! That is why Dobby is here to protect Harry Potter, to warn him… _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts._"

The silence stretches on for what feels like minutes before Potter remembers that he needs to respond. "No."

"No, no, no," squeaks Dobby, "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

_I'm in danger here, _Potter thinks, but he only asks, "Why?"

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," Dobby whispers as he begins to tremble. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"Aren't I always in danger, somehow or another?" Harry snaps, hands shaking. He can't lose Hogwarts. He can't! His thoughts swirl and crash, and Potter is too weak to be able to help him now. So Harry continues, "Voldemort, he's always going to be after me, isn't he?"

Dobby's head inches towards the wall, and Harry gives a groan that's half hysterical laughter. "Alright then, you don't have to answer that!"

Dobby shakes his head. With great determination, he says, "Not—not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,_ sir—" He seems to be trying to convey something to Harry, and Harry knows that it must be far more complicated than that, but he's suddenly light headed and dizzy and all he wants is for this to be over.

"Then I really don't care. I'm sorry Dobby, but I'm sure that Dumbledore will protect us." He really isn't sure at all, but who cares? "I am going back to Hogwarts, and you're not stopping me. It's the only place where anyone really cares about me."

"Then why does no one write to Harry Potter?" Dobby asks.

"How do you… know… that…" Potter slams into front as Harry jumps to his feet, more bloody images dancing through his head. The house elf looks mildly terrified, though still determined.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best—"

"You've been stopping our letters." Potter manages to spit the words like venom, not even catching the pronoun slip. Dobby doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy pulling the letters out of his pillowcase clothing.

"Dobby has them here, sir. Dobby hoped… if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him… Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…"

"Give me the letters," Potter whispers as his vision goes black around the edges. Now Angry is behind him, and he hears Harry reflect dryly that he hasn't switched so much in months. Angry has been repressed all summer to avoid an incident, though, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise now.

Dobby doesn't seem to know what to think, but he is incredibly stubborn. "Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face. Say you won't go back, sir!"

Without answering, Angry lunges forwards. Squealing, the house elf darts to the bedroom door, pulls it open, and sprints downstairs. Angry follows, and it's all that Potter can do to stop him from making too much noise. They follow Dobby into the kitchen, and Potter's stomach drops. Petunia's pudding, the evening dessert that she worked so hard on, is rising into the air and floating towards the dinner guests.

"Please," Potter begs, throat suddenly dry. "Dobby, please. If you care at all, you can't do this. They're more dangerous than any wizard, you don't understand, please!"

"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school—"

"Alright! Alright, Dobby, fine! I won't return, I'll—"

Dobby gives him a tragic look. "Harry Potter is lying. Dobby must do this, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

And the pudding crashes to the floor and shatters. Cream splatters the windows, walls, and, Potter faintly notes, the guests. Dobby vanishes with a crack, but the guests won't hear it over their own screaming. Vernon slowly stands up and advances. Petunia is trying to explain everything to the guests, talking in a trembling voice about how strangers upset him, he's so terribly disturbed, that's why he was locked upstairs…

Bruises stares in terror, but Vernon shakes his head, a snarl on his lips. "I will flay you within an inch of your life, boy. Clean up!" Bruises does as he's told. Every noise makes him flinch and jump, but relief settles over Harry. This is nothing new. They're going to be fine.

Then the owl arrives.

As Vernon reads that using magic outside of school could get Harry expelled (_and why are they just now bothering to care? _Harry wonders. W_hy are they only noticing when the spell cast wasn't even his own but Dobby's levitation charm?_), a crazed glint enters his eyes. His guests have left in a panic. His deal was ruined.

"Boy," he laughs cruelly, "you will regret this…"

XXXXX

_A/N: And book two begins!_

_As always, thanks to all reviewers, subscribers, and those who favorited this story!_

_Taylor1991: I know that you won't see these replies for a while, but yes, I do have DID. I'm glad to hear that you like how realistic this story is in that regard._

_Man of Constant Sorrow: Thank you so much for your review! I'm really glad that you're enjoying this. And yes, alters that seem to be have bad intentions are common with DID. Sometimes, they hold anger and self hatred towards the core, sometimes they're an internal representation of the hatred directed by abusers, and sometimes, they really think that punishing the system is the only way to keep everyone in line and so safe from further abuse, but they are common. Sometimes, stronger alters can lock them up inside, but if someone's still living in an abusive situation, it's unlikely that they can be stopped because in their mind, they're only doing what's best. As for Hermione, while I'm not sure about how relationships will work yet, I certainly see her as being extremely important for the system, and she will be involved in some fluff either way. :) For that matter, thank you for pointing out that it was under the wrong category! I hadn't even noticed that._


	28. Book 2 Chapter 2

It's been days. Harry's not quite sure how many. Potter insists that it was only three or four, but everything blurs together, and Harry wonders if Potter just thinks that because they've received enough meals that if it had been four days, they could almost pretend it's strange that they're starving. At least they really are being fed now; Lily's terrified to use magic. They're given their meals through a cat flap in the door. Their window is bared. Harry's mildly surprised that they're even released enough to use the restroom. Actually, maybe that's how Potter's measuring time. Surely they're allowed to leave their room at least twice a day?

It doesn't help that they have to somehow keep Hedwig fed as well. She's not happy with what he has to offer, but it's not like he has any other choice. It's almost too bad that his room isn't mice infested. Then at least one of them would be happy.

He's lying on his bed, too tired to do anything else, not that there's anything else to do. If starvation doesn't set in, boredom will get to him first. At least he didn't have to deal with what he thinks may have been the first day and a half of captivity. Bruises and Boy took that for them. Bruises and Boy have taken a lot of the last few days, Harry thinks as shifting positions shoots pain throughout his body.

At the edge of his conscience is an annoying rattling sound. Like someone is grabbing at the bars on his window, almost. At first, Harry tries to ignore it. Then he wonders if, now that Dobby's satisfied, he could have possibly let one of his letters get through? Reluctantly, he drags himself to a sitting position and forces his eyes to focus.

_James, _he whispers inside. Then more forcefully, _James!_ Their communication isn't always the best in the world, but this time, it seems to work, and James is dragged up into awareness.

_What do you…_ James notices what Harry's looking at, and his whole face lights up.

"Ron!"

For a moment, Ron just stares. He's in some sort of flying car, and the twins are with them. They seem more than a bit put off by the bars on Harry's window, but after a moment, Ron shrugs it off.

"What's been going on?" he asks. "Why have you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles—"

"I did nothing of the sort!" James protests, "some bloody house elf apparently took offense that we—er, _I_—wanted to return to Hogwarts because of danger, or something, and he stopped all my letters and dropped a pudding on someone's head!"

"Whoa!" Ron exclaims. "Anyway, we're going to get you out of there, okay? Hang on!"

He throws James a rope, and the alter quickly ties it around the bars and stands back, somehow ignoring pain that would have Harry collapsed on the floor by now. The car pulls forwards, and off pop the bars.

"I'll need my school stuff," he says as the car pulls back up to his window, "it's all locked in the cupboard."

"No problem!" George says. Within minutes, he's climbed into the Dursley's house, picked the lock on both the bedroom door and the cupboard itself, and retrieved Harry's things for them. James quickly hands everything over to Ron and then climbs into the car after George. Almost immediately, he opens Hedwig's cage and lets the poor bird fly free behind them. Tonight, they're all free!

"So," Fred says from the driver's seat, "what's this about house elves?" James quickly explains the story to them, leaving out Potter's overreaction, and waits.

"It sounds like someone's idea of a joke to me. House-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"

James snorts. "Too many to name."

The conversation turns to casual chat, and they arrive at the Burrow around morning to find a very angry Mrs. Weasley waiting for them.

XXXXX

By the time that breakfast is served, Mrs. Weasley has _mostly_ finished griping. James doesn't care. Even if he's able to ignore their sore muscles and pounding head, he hates how absolutely empty their stomach feels. How Petal can want this, he hasn't the slightest idea.

His thoughts don't linger for long, though. The Burrow is a nice place housing a great family. He feels safe here, far more so than he ever did with the Dursleys. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking that, though. Sure, it was harsh, but it couldn't have been _too_ bad. They didn't feed him well, but he doesn't see why Potter's so upset about everything else. I mean, heck, Potter was nearly blinded with rage when the bars were put on their windows, but if Ron didn't say anything, it can't be that bad, right? Potter's just a pansy.

When breakfast ends, James has a lot of fun trying to throw the gnomes over the hedge. His competitive nature quickly kicks in, and it's a fun game for him. Inside, Potter's sleeping, and Harry's only barely aware of himself. James supposes that that's fair enough; after all, it wasn't like he cared to come out much while they were locked up- too boring- so it makes sense that they're more worn out than he is. Still, they're missing out! They don't even get to meet Mr. Weasley.

A few days pass, and though it tires him, James stays out as much as he can. He's decided that he wants a house like this, one day. There are weird things going on everywhere, but the entire family seems so close. Not only that, but they seem to like _him_ being a part of the family, too! As much as he enjoys Hogwarts, he almost wishes that he would never have to leave. He's gotten a letter from Hermione, too, after Ron wrote her that they were going to rescue him (the letter came about a week later than would have been expected, and James decides that he's grateful that Hedwig is still a younger owl), but Draco still doesn't know where he is, so he doesn't even have to worry about that! Everything is perfect.

Speaking of Hermione, they're going to meet up with her at Diagon Alley to get school supplies. Grudgingly, James hands back over the front. He can spend more time with the Weasleys later. Besides, this whole floo powder business seems a bit funny to him, so he'll let Potter take the blame if something goes wrong.

_Oh, thanks for that,_ Potter notes drily. He takes a pinch of floo powder and a deep breath, walks up to the chimney, scatters the powder in the flames, and steps in. Opening his mouth to speak rewards him with a lot of hot ash. "Diagon Alley," he manages to choke, but even as the words come out, he knows that he hasn't spoken clearly. And then he's spinning through space, and he has to close his eyes to avoid getting sick.

He falls onto cold stone and feels his glasses snap. _Shit._

Picking himself up reveals that he's alone in some sort of shadowy shop, but the items on sale are nothing that Potter would have considered buying. He can see a withered hand, a blood stained pack of cards, a staring glass eye. Evil looking masks stare down from the walls, and he's pretty sure the bones on the counter are human. Even as something inside him is drawn to the idea of looking around, he knows that he needs to leave as soon as possible. The street outside isn't Diagon Alley, but maybe if he walks far enough he'll find a familiar land mark.

He walks quickly. This area is giving him a bad feeling. Everything here seems to be devoted to the Dark Arts. He can feels eyes on him, doubtless wondering what a kid like himself is doing wandering around without a guardian. At least, he hopes that they can't see his scar or otherwise recognize him.

"Harry!" he hears someone call, and he nearly jumps out of skin. A moment later, he hears unfamiliar muttering…

"Merlin Harry, where have you been?" Someone demands in annoyance. Potter turns around in relief. It's just Draco, accompanied by his father. Distantly, he wonders what they're doing here, and he can see the same question on Draco's face. He's not sure how to answer either question.

"I've never used floo powder before," he finally lamely explains, wincing at the shock on Mr. Malfoy's face. "After my parents… well, I've been living with Muggle relatives. They're absolutely _awful_. They wouldn't let in your owl, Draco, and they wouldn't even let Hedwig out of your cage."

He hopes that this was the right thing to say. He hates knowing that he's only reinforcing Draco's hatred of non-wizards, but he knows that he needs to distract him from the fact that he came here with the Weasleys. If he wants any chance at all of remaining accepted by the Slytherins, he can't have Draco's father forbidding his son from having anything to do with him. Honestly, he's surprised that they're allowed to talk at all, considering the rumors that the Malfoys were devoted followers to the same Dark Lord that he's now killed twice.

Draco, at least, seems to have bought his distraction. Or maybe he can just see how much weight they've lost, Potter realizes in a rush of self conscious, pulling their robes tighter around his body though even his bony wrists show signs of malnutrition.

"That's horrible!" Draco fumes, and he's still fuming when they reach the book store.

"Harry!" another voice calls, female this time. Goodness, he seems to be popular today. Potter looks up to find Hermione running towards them. Draco glares and takes a step in front of him.

"Mudblood," he spits. His father glares at him for his public rudeness, but Hermione rolls her eyes.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaims, "the Weasleys are this way, we've all been looking frantically for you. We weren't sure where you'd ended up…"

Potter's aware of Mr. Malfoy's cold stare on his back as he allows Hermione to drag him away.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts," he calls apologetically back to Draco, "and if you can write me now, I'll make sure to reply immediately!"

"Right," Draco snorts bitterly, "if that old bird of the Weasleys doesn't die on the way!" But he allows Potter to disappear into the crowd

XXXXX

After a bit of fuss from the panicked Weasley gang, they all break up to do a bit of shopping on their own. They reconvene at the book store. Potter hopes that the Malfoys have already left, but he doesn't think that it would be a problem, anyway. How much trouble could anyone really get into in such a public place? Besides, the place is packed to the brim with people, so it would be hard to pick apart anyone in this crowd. He soon realizes the cause of this; Gilderoy Lockhart, the man behind most of their school book list, is there to sign copies of his autobiography. When Potter notices how much of the crowd is made up of older witches, he can't help but snicker. Hermione seems excited, as well, but he figures that she's just delighted to meet another wizard so knowledgeable about anything related to magic. She still doesn't seem as excited to meet Lockhart as Mrs. Weasley does, and Potter notices Ron grimacing.

Then Lockhart notices _him_, and it all dissolves into chaos.

After countless pictures are taken and Potter's been presented with a free set of books, Lockhart finally announces that he'll be his teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts and sets him free. Potter gets away as quickly as he can. Something about Lockhart seems off, to him, and he hates the way that the man felt the need to keep putting his arm around his shoulders.

"Potter!" It's Draco again. It takes Potter a moment to remember that the use of his last name is because they're in public, not because Draco somehow recognized him, and he forces himself to resume breathing.

"Leave him alone!" Ginny says, and Potter realizes that this is the first time that he's seen her speak.

"Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend,_" Malfoy drawls, but Potter notices the anger crossing his face.

"For God's sake Malfoy!" he says before he can stop himself. Draco looks hurt, but Potter's never been fond of overly jealous people.

"Oh, it's you," says Ron, and Potter groans and hands Ginny his books, telling her that he'll buy his own later. She needs the free books more than he does, and he wants to be able to break up the fight if that's what this comes down to. To his intense displeasure, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy quickly join the small group. This is going to be a real mess.

Thankfully, the fight doesn't last long, though when Mr. Malfoy actually picks up one of Ginny's old school books, Potter's afraid someone's going to resort to violence. He glares at his classmate as he leaves, but Draco doesn't even have the sense to look sheepish. This might be a very long year…

XXXXX

_ A/N: Thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited, or subscribed! Sorry for the quality of this chapter; I wanted to include the first part, and of course all know how important that last scene is! But hopefully, things will get interesting soon._

_ DaisyKitten: Luna will show up in the story at least a couple of times, yes._


	29. Book 2 Chapter 3

James gives the wall one last frustrated kick before following Ron outside. He doesn't understand why the barrier is closed off, but it's preventing him from accessing the train, and he'll be damned if that stops him from getting to Hogwarts! Surely taking the flying car to school can't be that bad an option, right? Really, it's just a car. Flying or not, cars are pretty safe. It's not like they'll have to worry about traffic in the air, or anything. And they can just follow the train so that they don't get lost! Brilliant. No big deal at all.

_You're an idiot! _James hears Potter's panicked voice. _You're going to get us all killed! Oh my god! Just because Ron _thinks _that he can drive a bloody flying car doesn't mean that he actually can! He wouldn't even be allowed to drive a regular car at his age! And what if we're seen?!_

_ Oh calm down, _James mutters, rolling his eyes, _everything's going to be fine._

Indeed, they get up into the air and above the clouds without a problem. There's a quick scare with the invisibility mechanism, and then they almost get hit by a train, and the car does get perilously close to running out of gas, and they do almost get mauled by a giant tree, but hey, no harm no foul, right? Even when it's all over, they don't get punished or anything! Sure, Ron did break his wand. Big deal. James is fine, and that's all that matters. No one really got into trouble, even if Ron does receive a Howler and they both got a detention. The only one who really cares is Potter, and who cares what he thinks?

XXXXX

Potter's positively seething as he makes his way to Lockhart's room for his detention. Of course he's the one being punished for James's stupidity. Of course. No wonder the alter's so badly behaved; he never takes responsibility for anything! And it's not like Potter could just shove out one of the others, either. That would be beyond rude. At least the others do seem rather happy. Hogwarts, no matter how they arrive, is infinitely better than living with the Dursleys, and now that there are less watchful eyes on them (Mrs. Weasley, lovely woman as she is, watches them a little too closely, and it makes everyone nervous), everyone can begin to return to their previous activities. Already, Lily's enjoying Herbology. They're preparing Mandrakes, apparently. Though the screaming makes Potter feel sick even with the earmuffs, as long as Lily's happy, he's not inclined to complain. This, however…

He recalls this morning's class with a grimace. Instead of beginning the course with anything remotely useful, Lockhart had given them a quiz… about _himself_. Potter's never met a more self absorbed man in his life! What makes it even worse is that Lockhart seems to be assuming that they're the same way. It's simultaneously the funniest and most annoying thing that Potter's ever witnessed. If he could never have a drop of attention again, he would be happy. He's had too much negative attention to not distrust the positive, and actively seeking for others to look at him? It sounds absurd!

As if further proving his insanity, Lockhart had then proceeded to release a cage full of Cornish pixies on the class. Thank God for Hermione and Lily, or the little menaces would still be nesting in people's hair and hiding things where no one could get to them! It's not like Lockhart himself was any help. He's a coward, Potter's already sure. How he managed to defeat much of anything, let alone terrifying monsters, is anyone's guess, and Potter's betting that things didn't happen nearly as smoothly as his books claimed that they did.

Shaking his head, Potter knocks on the classroom door and waits for Lockhart to acknowledge him. It doesn't take long. Almost at once, the door flies open.

"Ah, here's the scalwag! Come in, Harry, come in—" And he ushers Potter inside. Potter has to fight himself to sit down at the man's desk and remain still. All that he has to do is address envelopes to Lockhart's admirers. That's it. It's not a hard task. Yes, the man touched him while getting him into the room. That doesn't mean anything. He's not about to be attacked. He does not need to switch. He cannot afford to switch! Lockhart's looking at him funny, oh god, he's noticed that something is wrong…

He wakes up alone in the hallway. For a moment, all that Potter can register is surprise. Blacking out is unusual for him. It's strange for any of them, really, and a quick check inside reveals that not even Harry knows what just happened. It makes him very, very uneasy. On the other hand, every time that they have lost time, it's been because of switching while under a high amount of stress. All things considered, Potter realizes that he can't be too surprised, not by—and then his attention is diverted by a voice.

_"Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…"_

Potter's jaw nearly hits the floor.

_… oh, __**God**__, _Harry breathes. Is that why they lost time? Is this voice signs of someone new, someone uncontrollable? Is this who James was hearing before? No, it can't be. This blood lust sounds stronger than anything James had ever experienced. And how strong must an alter be to have caused such a complete system black out?

_It doesn't even sound like they're inside!_ James says, finally worried by something. _Are you sure that we're not just insane? Or that one of us isn't, at least, and somehow affecting the others? _Potter doesn't miss the direction that James glances in, and he returns the glare full force.

_Some alters can project their voices outside. I swear that I read that somewhere. Or maybe it was something that Hermione asked about? Anyway, we'll just have to keep our guard up. It seems to have quieted, anyway. _Potter avoids pointing out that the voice very clearly seemed to be originating from the walls. He knows enough by now to be sure that any voice that he can hear and others can't—and others must not be able to hear this, because it's fairly loud and they're still close enough to Lockhart's room that he surely would have joined them otherwise—must be an alter. What else could it be, really?

Shaken, they return to their dorm in silence.

XXXXX

Thankfully, the next few weeks seem normal enough. Despite the general strangeness of Lockhart, everything else seems to be going well. Lily, at least, is exceptionally happy. She's beginning to look forward more to Herbology than even to Charms, and Potter thinks that he's worked out why. Though not much can be said while the ear muffs are on, Lily and Blaise have taken to talking when they get the chance. Lily's too nervous to approach him outside of class, and Blaise seems to respect that, but it's obvious that they both enjoy their conversations when they can have them. Unfortunately for Lily, Potter isn't the only one who's noticed. James seems to have picked up on her crush as well, though Lily adamantly denies that that's what it is. Potter thinks that it's rather sweet, though he does wish that James would stop his mumbling about how "we _are_ in a boy's body, though, so Blaise better not return her feelings. Merlin, if he's one of those people…" It makes Potter want to break his face, though for obvious reasons, that's not exactly possible. James is insistent that he has nothing against homosexuals, he's just a bit weary of Blaise being one, but that does nothing to soothe Potter's irritation. At the moment, they're not exactly on speaking terms, but that's typical enough that it doesn't much matter.

Besides, James won't be able to stay irritated much longer. The first Quidditch match is approaching. Again, he's pitted against Gryffindor, but he's looking forwards to it regardless. Sure, the constant griping between the two houses gets irritating, especially when he's forced to appear to agree with Slytherin—he hasn't yet found a way to publically defend his preferred house without Draco sulking for at least half a week—but all that matters to him is that he gets to fly again. He missed the final Quidditch match last year due to the whole Voldemort fiasco, and he had no chances to fly over the summer, so he's very to take to the air again. As well, perhaps he's just slightly eager to show off, even if it is the people that he wishes were his classmates who he's going to be defeating.

And then Draco gets made the team's chaser because his father has money, and James fall into such a mood that _everyone_ finds it best to ignore him. The result of this is that James is allowed to front less, making "Harry Potter" suddenly begin to seem a lot more Slytherin. Draco, of course, picks up on this, and it's not long before he's increasing his efforts to get Harry's approval. Whatever his father must have said to him before the school year began must not be having much of an effect. The system responds to his increased attention by shoving Snake out more frequently; this, of course, only serves to further irritate James.

Really, the only good things that comes out of the new system tensions are that there's now no doubt that Hermione will talk with Lily and Harrison regardless of the activities of the rest of the system and that "Harry's Slytherin Phase" is helping to distance what Ron had taken to calling their fan club. For that matter, Ron himself is avoiding them more, and Potter can't exactly say that he minds that much.

Still, everything goes more or less smoothly, and soon weeks have passed. Potter has heard from neither the voice nor James's mysterious alter, so as far as he's concerned, everything is fine.

Life disagrees with him. James finally fronts for the Quidditch match, and lo and behold, his arm is broken by a rogue bludger! Before they know it, Lockhart's mucked up the healing even more (though it couldn't have helped that their first instinct was to hide the injury and run like crazy when Lockhart reached out to touch them), and they're in the hospital wing for the night.

It's Harry who comes to in the middle of the night. There are sharp pains all over his arm, and he's surprised that something managed to stop Bruises from being there with him. Then he realizes that the alter must have retreated when he saw something in the room that he didn't know how to deal with: Dobby.

"Bloody hell, not you again," he groans, and a single tear rolls down Dobby's face.

"Harry Potter came back to school," the elf whispers miserably, "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah, sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"

Harry pulls himself up with a sudden calm that surprises even himself. "So. You're the one who made the barrier solid?" His voice is flat and even, and Dobby away nervously. With sudden clarity, Harry realizes that the elf expects to be beaten. "I'm not going to hurt you," he sighs, lying back down again, "but even you must see why that's frustrating."

Dobby nods and explains his reasoning, though he still won't say what, exactly, the danger is that Harry should be avoiding. It doesn't take long for Harry to figure out that the bludger wasn't caused by this "danger" but Dobby himself, but he can barely bring himself to care at the moment. Eventually, Dobby realizes that Harry just needs to be alone for a while and so leaves. Harry tries to fall back asleep, but some 40 minutes later, he realizes that that's not going to happen. Unfortunately, with his right arm taken out of commission, there's not much that he can actually _do_. He resigns himself to laying in the dark for who knows how long when he hears the door to the hospital wing creak open.

XXXXXX

When Potter wakes up the next morning, it doesn't occur to him to wonder why a certain memory is completely gone.

XXXXX

_A/N: I'm going somewhere with this, I promise! :P Unfortunately, there's still a bit more that I need to get through before I can reach the fun part. Just stick with me, and, hopefully, it will be worth it! As always, thank you to those who have read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed up to this point._

_Gyuchin: Persecutor alters are those that hurt the body or a particular system member. Like all other alters, they have reasons for what they're doing, possibly including trying to scare off alters from doing things that would receive worse punishments from the abusers, holding self hatred so that the core doesn't have to, or because they think that it will somehow help the core. Other types of alters include protectors (defenders), littles (the children), fronters (the ones who use the body), the host (the one who uses the body most often), or abused alters and memory holders (the ones who experience the abuse or take the memories of it). I'm glad that you like this story! Unfortunately, at the time being, no adult is in the position to be much help for Harry._

_FRK921: Actually, the average number of alters is 10 to 15, and there have been cases where over 100 alters have been found. While some systems only have 2 or 3 alters, that's actually far less common than the media would lead one to believe._


	30. Book 2 Chapter 4

Ominous warnings or not, none of them have any idea how to please Dobby without leaving Hogwarts, which they refuse to do, so they decide to just forget about that strange night. There's enough going on that it's easy to ignore the dire advice of a house elf, and by the time that Halloween rolls around, they've nearly forgotten the entire incident. Of course, there may be other factors at play there, but they've always been good at ignoring things that would otherwise risk their psyche.

This, even Harry can't ignore.

He wakes up in his bed as normal, but it's late afternoon, and he's certain that he doesn't remember laying down for a nap. The problem is, he can't remember much of anything. He remembers talking with Draco about how he hoped that teachers wouldn't assign too much homework because he wants to enjoy the Great Feast this year in full. He can remember some of his classes. But then everything becomes blurred. Just as one can't recall what they were thinking of as they fell asleep, Harry hasn't the slightest idea exactly when he stopped being mentally present. He can feel his mind trying to glide past the gap in his memory entirely, as it's done so many times before, but this is the second time this week that he's caught himself having lost time, and Harry's determined to discover what's going on.

Realizing that this is a mystery that he can't solve alone, he feels that he has no choice but to see if Ron or Hermione remember anything. There's still a good block of time before the Great Feast begins, so he has no trouble slipping out of the Slytherin Common Room without being noticed. Drawing as little attention to himself as possible, not in the mood to deal with anyone who might care to question him, he wanders down to the library, uncertain if even Hermione will be there but seeing no other choice. It's not like he can enter the Gryffindor Common Rooms, after all. Unfortunately, he has no luck. After a moment's thought, Harry decides to look outside. Ron and Hermione still visit Hagrid often- he tries to join them when gets the chance- and Ron could be down at the Quidditch pitch watching Gryffindor's team train.

This time, he's more successful. He chats with them for a few minutes before enquiring as to his activities, but neither of his friends had seen him since class. Disappointed, he decides to try Draco. Maybe the amnesia between himself and Snake is now mutual? If nothing else, perhaps Draco had seen what he was doing or where he had gone. Slightly frustrated, Harry turns and walks back to the Slytherin dorms. He waits impatiently for Draco to finish a game of Wizard Chess and then asks to speak to the boy privately. Draco seems a bit confused, but agrees. Once they're safely back in their dorms, Harry slowly begins, unsure of how exactly he needs to word this in order to avoid appearing insane.

"I was just wondering..." he begins slowly. Draco raises an eyebrow, so Harry takes a deep breath and says, "I know that this is going to sound a bit crazy. But what was I doing earlier?"

"You're right" Draco exclaims, "that does sound crazy! Merlin, Harry, what kind of a question is that? Did you bonk your head, or something?"

Harry breathes in slowly again, reminding himself that attacking classmates tends to get one into trouble. "No. I was practicing spells, I think, and I must have messed up my short term memory. I can remember everything else fine, but what I did today is a bit blurry."

He's proud of his excuse until Draco asks, "Why's it matter, then? It's just a normal school day, it's not like anything important happened... should you see the nurse? You don't look very well."

"I'm fine!" Harry insists, "I just don't like not knowing what happened."

Draco shrugs. Deciding that if Draco had noticed anything strange he wouldn't be flippant about this, Harry turns to go. Draco stops him.

"You know," he says—and Harry can picture the suspicious yet smug look on his face without even having to turn around—"you're kind of strange sometimes."

"You're rather rude, sometimes," Harry counters, but for once, Draco doesn't rise to the bait.

"You're so moody!" Draco says, "You act so differently sometimes, it's almost like you're a different person! And what, now you can't remember things? Are you _mad_?"

"Terribly rude," Harry forces out through gritted teeth. He knows that retreating is a horrible choice, but he can't deal with Draco right now. Really, he doesn't want to deal with _anyone _right now. No longer looking forwards to the Great Feast, Harry heads for the library to wait things out. He wishes that Potter were here with him, but for some reason, he's alone. He wonders if something's wrong, something bigger than just lost memories. His head is pounding. The sound of his own footsteps on the stone floor makes him want to scream. His breathing is coming heavily, and he wants to rip his lungs out of chest. Everything is too loud. The lights are too bright. Two older girls walk past him, chatting and laughing, and he wants to scream at them. The noise blurs in his head. None of the sounds make sense. The light is pounding into his head, pounding...

_"Rip... tear... kill..."_ Harry barely notices that the voice has returned. Instinctually, he turns away, stumbling to hide in a corner until his head clears. He finds himself clutching his head tightly as if the pressure will knock things right.

_Harry?_ He hears. Then, _oh!_ And then Potter is back and slowly pulling them to their feet. _What on earth happened?_

_ Don't know..._ Harry manages. Then he collapses inside to break in piece.

Potter shakes his head in bewilderment. Something's upset Harry, that much is obvious, but he's not sure what. Reviewing their memories reveals that it's a lack of certain memories that's got Harry panicking, but Potter isn't sure why that's cause to be upset. After all, Harry missed most of their childhood. Sure, it's a bit unsual to be missing time while at school, but it's possible that one of the alters is just stretching their legs, so to speak. It's a good thing that they feel safe enough to come out, isn't it?

_"Soo hungry... for so long..."_ Potter shivers and backs away from the walls, almost certain that that's where the noise—where alter is making him _think_ that the noise came from. Alright, perhaps some alters he would prefer not to meet. Still, there's nothing that can be done, so there's no use dwelling on it. He'll try to see if he can find a more productive way for them to express themselves later. For now, he's hungry.

"Where've you been?" Draco demands as Potter slides into the seat next to him. "I was beginning to think that you wouldn't show up!"

Potter shrugs, unsure what to say and exactly how long they were gone in the first place. "Sorry," he says lamely. Draco rolls his eyes and turns back to his dinner. Potter copies him, piling food onto their plate. The strange silence in their head does have one advantage: no Petal! He plans to take advantage of the current freedom by eating as much as he pleases.

After he's done scarfing down enough food to (hopefully) compensate for their recent lack, he searches for Ron and Hermione to signal to them that everything's fine. He doesn't know if Harry worried them earlier or not, but he does know that his core can be a little intense, and he doesn't want either of them to be wondering about what alters might be doing behind Harry's back. Finally, Ron turns and notices him. Potter meets his eyes and smiles, and Ron grins back. Well, Potter decides, even if Ron doesn't understand and thinks that it's just James being social, at least he doesn't seem worried. Potter glances idly around the room. Without thinking, he looks up at the front of the Great Hall where the teachers sit. He's looking down the row when Lockhart glances up.

"Are you alright?" Draco asks. This time, there's genuine worry in is voice. "Maybe you really should see the nurse.

"I'm fine," Potter rasps. He quickly stands up, muttering as he stumbles away: "I think I ate too fast. See you later." Without looking to see how Draco's taking it, he darts out of the hall. He doesn't make it much farther before he has to stop and lean against the wall for support, stomach heaving. What the hell?

_"…kill… time to kill…"_ Potter's eyes shoot open. Oh, not this again! Suddenly furious, convinced that this new alter is the cause of all of the strange events lately, Potter shoots off in the direction that the voice seems to be coming from. He doesn't know what he's aiming for. It's just an alter. They don't have a body of their own. He won't find anything. But the idea that he's possibly doing something productive fuels him, so does it really matter?

It doesn't take long for him to lose track of where, exactly, he thought that the voice had come from. It hasn't spoken again, at least. Suddenly tired, Potter leans back against a wall. What a day. Well, he might as well return to get dessert. Now that whoever that was is gone, things should be fine again—for the moment, at least.

He's distracted, so he almost doesn't notice it. It's not until he steps in something wet, some kind of puddle, that he bothers to look up. When he does, he almost slips as he quickly hurries backwards. In front of him, hanging off of one of the torch brackets by her tail, is Mrs. Norris. For a moment, that's all that he can see. But then his eyes are drawn behind her, to the walls. It takes a minute for his mind to truly comprehend the words written there in a thick, dulled red liquid.

"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

He's not sure how long he stands there in shock, but eventually, other students, released from their dinner, join him. Distantly, he registers people shrieking, and he thinks that he hears Draco laughing about something, but it's hard for him to process anything past the terror. They didn't… they didn't do this, did they? Is this what happened when they blacked out?

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch works his way through the crowd, glaring nastily at everyone in his way. Then he notices his cat and starts screaming at Potter. Finally, Potter focuses.

Apparently, Harry deems the situation worthy of response. Potter's not even sure when Harry returned, but before he can intervene, Harry's already scowling, boldly declaring, "I didn't kill your bloody cat. That would require caring about her enough to hate her, and frankly, I have better things to be doing with my time."

_Harry!_ Potter panics as the crowd around them alights with whispers. _I swear, sometimes you're as bad as James!_

Potter leaps back quickly to avoid Filch grabbing and attempting to murder him. Thankfully, Dumbledore chooses that moment to push his way through the crowd. Honestly, Potter's surprised that even he's able to calm Filch, but he's thankful enough to not care. At the headmaster's command, he reluctantly follows both back into the nearest classroom—Lockhart's, he notes. Lockhart himself has accompanied them, along with McGonagall and Snape. Lockhart practically dances around the room as he theorizes about what could have killed Mrs. Norris, but Dumbledore quickly puts a stop to that.

"She is not dead, Argus," he informs a shocked Filch.

"Not dead?" the man manages to choke. "But why's she all—all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified. How, I cannot say, but such a thing would require Dark Magic far beyond the level of a second year. Harry Potter did not do this."

Potter sighs in relief. Snape notices this and turns towards him, and he cringes.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," says Snape, eyeing him suspiciously, "Potter may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

Potter stares at the ground for a long time, but when the accusations resume, he squeezes his eyes shut and blurts out, "I had to leave the feast, sir. I was having a panic attack." He doesn't open his eyes again. The silence is more stunned than it should be, more stunned than it would have been if he was anyone other than Harry Bloody Potter.

To his relief, Dumbledore breaks the silence. "I see. If you will, Mr. Potter, I would like to see you in my office so that we can determine if there is anything that can be done for you. As for the rest of you, it might be best if you could attempt to calm the students. Argus, your cat will be restored to full health as soon as Professor Sprout's Mandrakes reach maturity."

With some grumbling, everyone is finally persuaded to allow Dumbledore and Harry to go to the man's office in silence. Once again, Potter finds himself sitting in front of the Headmaster's desk and wondering what on earth he's done to deserve this slot in life.

_James? _He calls desperately inside, _James, I really need you to talk to Dumbledore right now!_ Despite the alter's misgivings, the chance to speak to the Headmaster manages to draw James out of his reverie and back to the world of the living. It takes a moment to catch him up on everything (during which time Potter pretends, not entirely untruthly, to be switching in the stereotypical head-fallen-on-the-chest-eyes-half-rolled-back fashion), and then James is ready for action.

"We didn't touch Filch's cat!" he loudly insists. His blunt manner causes a smile to settle on Dumbledore's lips, but the man's eyes remain grave.

"I'm well aware that no one that I know would be willing to commit such a deed," Dumbledore says carefully.

James's mouth drops. "Are you saying that one of us did it?!"

The smile drops from Dumbledore's face. "I do not know who Petrified Mrs. Norris," he admits. "As I stated before, such a spell would require Dark Magic of the most advanced nature."

"But you think one of us did it," James argues, picking up on the man's careful avoidance of the issue. "Look. I know that we might seem crazy, but we while we may not like Filch's stupid cat, it's not worth trying to freeze it or whatever! We wouldn't do something like that, none of us. And that message left on the wall, about the Chamber? Load of nonsense as far as I'm concerned, but if we really wanted to scare someone, we wouldn't be so damned passive aggressive about it. At least, I wouldn't, but even stupid Snake wouldn't…"

Realizing that he might have said too much, James falls back with a huff. Dumbledore is watching him closely.

"Yes, I do believe that whatever happened, you were not aware of it, or you would have tried to stop it." He raises a hand to pause James speech. "I do mean that in general. You've proven yourself to be very willing to stop any evil that you may notice." James nods at this, but Dumbledore continues, "However, due to the nature of your condition, I'm not sure that we can rely on your memory."

"Headmaster," James starts to insist before realizing that he has nothing to say. They never indicated to the Headmaster that they don't black out, and besides, aren't they blacking out now? Didn't they black out earlier today, even?

"We wouldn't," he finishes weakly. "There may be evil inside of us, but not… Headmaster, we _wouldn't_."

Dumbledore must be able to read the terror in James's eyes. He nods sadly. "You should return to your dorm. And please, come to me if you notice anything or need someone to talk to. Even if you simply wish for a listening ear the next time that you experience panic, my office is always welcome to you."

James leaves in a daze. He's almost back to the dungeons before he speaks again.

_I'll destroy whoever did that._

When Potter reacts only with a shocked silence, he clarifies, _I don't care what anyone says. We won't be evil._

_I will not let us prove Vernon right._

XXXXX

_A/N: Okay, so we're still following the canon story line at the moment. However, it won't last long. I promise! The next chapter should be fun, as well. As always, thanks to all who faved, reviewed, and followed._

_Gyuchin: You're welcome! And yes, the alter who takes the role of host can change. However, Harry himself is not the host. He's the core personality, the one born to the body. Really, Potter's more of a host than he is. But yes, he really is fronting yes._

_Ilessthan3KH: I did mean that Draco became the chaser. Oh my gosh, I even looked that up to make sure that I got it right, and I apparently still messed up. ^^; Thank you for pointing that out._

_Nahmen: I'm glad that you like it! I do plan to finish. I may need to publish two different endings in order not to scare readers off, but! And yes, my own DID heavily influences how Harry's alters interact in this fic. For example, I know a bit more about internal worlds, switching, and co-conscious than other authors might, and I know to include other dissociative symptoms as well: derealization, depersonalization, dissociative amnesia, etc. As well, many of Harry's struggles with PTSD are something that I can relate to, even if my own past was slightly different._


	31. Book 2 Chapter 5

He has to admit, he prefers how the other houses avoid him. Potter's lost track of how much time has passed since Mrs. Norris was first petrified- he thinks that it couldn't have been that long ago, but with each day stretching out to cover a year, he's no longer sure- but the rumors surrounding him haven't died down. If anything, they've increased. With each new person that turns up frozen, another wave of suspicion washes through the student body. A first year, Collin Creevey, was the first. Justin Flinch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick soon followed. Despite Ron and Hermione's loyal insistence that he's innocent, many of the students from other houses avoid Potter as if he carries the plague. In his own house, however, only Blaise will stand up for him, and that's where he needs the help most.

The Slytherins aren't afraid of him. Oh no, quite the contrary. They're convinced that he's the Heir of Slytherin, returned to wreck havoc on the school for allowing in Mudbloods. It doesn't seem to matter to them that his best friend is muggle born; really, they see him with Draco and that's that. It's caused enough headaches that Potter's beginning to agree with James; Draco's more trouble than he's worth. It's not like they don't have Ron and Hermione, annoying as he himself finds Ron, and while Blaise may not be high on the Slytherin social ladder, it's obvious that he commands respect. What more could they need?

And it's true. Having grown up without being shown so much as a shred of affection, even the attention that their friends pay them now is almost overwhelming. Potter had never dared to dream that anyone could be so accepting of them, yet here he is now, in the library with Hermione, and she hasn't shown any signs of wanting to run away yet. Actually, after her initial phase of wanting to research every possible aspect of DID, she seems more accepting than ever. It amazes Potter that someone could see them, know more than one of them, and not cast them aside as a freak, but if she truly likes them, he's certainly not going to push his luck!

Right now, Potter and Hermione are taking a quick break from research. Well, Hermione's taking a research break. Potter's enjoying the chance to talk to her again. When Hermione gets focused on research, it's usually Harrison who comes out to join her. It amazes Potter how well she and Harrison and get along. Though Potter's almost positive that Harrison must be Autistic, Hermione's endlessly patient with him. She seems to enjoy having someone to discuss her research findings with, and she seems delighted when Harrison can point out things that she's missing. She doesn't seem to mind that he can't hold much of a conversation unless he's spending hours on end rambling about one thing or another. She seems to actually enjoy what he does have to say.

To be honest, Potter thinks that Hermione gets along better with Harrison than she does with him. They're friendly with each other, but they don't have much in common. Sometimes, when silence falls between them, it gets so awkward that Potter almost wants to force Lily out just so that he can escape. Even after all this time, though, he feels incredibly vulnerable switching when someone's watching him. It's one thing for someone else to already be out when they go to see Hermione, and he doesn't mind if he's co-conscious and someone wants to add their opinion on something. Actually switching, however, never fails to make him nervous. He thinks that Hermione's probably picked up on this, and he knows that while she'd be too polite to say anything, it probably disappoints her. She's a curious person by nature, and being able to chat more about how exactly DID works for them would probably delight her. Potter's ashamed of his reluctance, but as much as he trusts Hermione, he can't let his guard down completely around her.

On the other hand… on the other hand, doesn't he owe it to her? She's their first real friend. She's the first person who's ever accepted them. Isn't he being a terrible friend in return if he's so paranoid and refuses to trust her? It's obvious that she wants to know more about them, and he knows that she would never hurt them on purpose. She's so great with Harrison that maybe… maybe…

"Potter?" Hermione asks, and Potter wonders how long he's been off in his own world.

"Sorry," he says stiffly to hide his embarrassment. Hermione nods, but she seems to know that there's more to it. She probably thinks that it's a system thing, maybe that he was distracted by someone else inside. As always, she's too polite to ask.

He interrupts her before she can return to whatever the conversation topic was before. "Hermione—ah, this is a bit strange for me to ask. But I know that you've wanted to meet more of us for a while. And well, some of us haven't had a chance to talk to anyone in a very long time or have never had any friends at all. So I was just—if there's anyone in particular that you want to meet, I wouldn't mind it if you asked to see them."

Potter cringes, well aware of how horribly awkward that came out, but Hermione is too busy staring at the table to notice. Almost shyly, she says, "I've been wondering about the littles. I read that they're really important to a DID system, you know—and I know that you all don't have that many, it's just that it seems like they wouldn't get much of a chance to see things while you're surrounded by people at school. And well, I am rather curious."

"I know," Potter grins, laughing to hide his unease. Will the children be safe? If something happens, they won't be able to protect themselves…

"We'll have to go somewhere where no one else can see us by accident."

Hermione nods thoughtfully before commanding that he follow her. To his surprise, she leads him to an old girls bathroom.

"Er, Hermione…"

"Don't worry," she informs him, "no one ever comes here, not when Moaning Myrtle floods it so often." She wastes little time explaining who Moaning Myrtle is and why no, it doesn't matter if Myrtle sees them, before sitting down curiously on the edge of a sink and waiting.

"Give me a second," Potter says after a moment or two pass in silence. He ducks into one of the bathroom stalls and crouches close to the floor, taking deep breaths. Only now does it occur to him that he might not be able to switch on command. He's done so many times with Harry and James, but they're much stronger and more prominent alters than any of the children. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Well, there's only one way to find out for sure. Potter closes his eyes and concentrates hard on summoning Hansel. If he could just duck inside, that'd be one thing, but he's not sure what would happen if he left the body without anyone in control. Lights off, no one's home, perhaps! Shaking his head, he concentrates harder, trying to mentally call inside.

_Oh, fuck it,_ he hears someone mutter. Moments later, Harry returns with Hairy, and Potter kicks himself for not noticing that his core was watching. Harry just rolls his eyes.

_Couldn't get Hansel,_ he explains, _not sure why. Think he went dormant. _Potter nods. It happens, sometimes. If alters aren't useful at the moment, the brain often decides to stop wasting energy on keeping them so compartmentalized. They won't just integrate, of course, not unless everything that created them has been sufficiently processed, but they won't be ready to switch out when there's not a trigger, either. Nothing worth panicking about.

For that matter, Hariy's feeling a bit faded, but Potter's sure that he'll be back to normal soon enough. He seems to be gaining strength by the second when he realizes that someone is waiting outside of the stall to talk to him.

"Hi!" he exclaims, and Hermione looks startled. For a moment, Potter panics, wondering if they did something wrong, wondering just how young they look, wondering why on earth he was stupid enough to think that letting out the four year old was a good idea…

"Who is this?" Hermione asks.

Hairy smiles widely. "Hairy!"

Potter mentally facepalms, and even Harry winces. _Oops._

"Harry?" Hermione asks in confusion. Hairy nods.

"But I'm not the big Hairy. He spells his name funny. I'm four." Already losing interest, he's glancing around the bathroom with wide eyes. "I don't know where we are," he loudly proclaims.

"You're at Hogwarts," Hermione says. Seeing his confusion, she adds, "it's a special school for people with magic."

Hairy's whole face lights up. "I 'member that! A giant showed Harry and us around a shopping mall where there were funny people in dresses and candy moved! Hansel got to eat some, but they wouldn't let me try 'cause they said I'm too little."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione smiles. "You haven't been out in a long time, then, have you?"

Hairy just stares at her.

"That was over a year ago, Harry," she says. Hairy shrugs.

"I go to sleep a lot," he tells her. "Lily tells Hansel and me that we need to go away so they can do boring adult things. Blech! And then the body gets all old while we're sleeping, and we never get to do fun stuff cause Harry's boring and says we gotta look like grownups."

"Well, what kind of things do you like to do?"

"I like to play with bubbles! Our cousin got bubbles sometimes. He got to blow them. We didn't get those kind of bubbles, we got the sink kind. Sometimes, if Aunt and Uncle were in another room, Dudley would play bubbles with me. We had bubble wars!"

"And your Aunt and Uncle don't mind that?"

"I dunno," Hairy shrugs, "Lily makes me go to sleep when they come back."

He doesn't notice the fear on Hermione's face. To her credit, she recovers quickly.

"Would you like some bubbles to play with now?"

"Yeah!" Hairy cheers. "You have bubbles? Can I see?"

"Not quite." She draws in a deep breath, waves her wand, and summons bubbles from thin air. "Sorry," she apologizes, "I don't know how to make the mix for you to blow…"

Hairy doesn't respond. He's too busy staring at a bubble whose size rivals that of his head. Besides, how could he talk with his jaw on the floor like that?

Pop! Hairy beams. Then he's running around the bathroom, sliding as he goes—"Oh, do slow down! Please don't fall!" Hermione pleads—popping every bubble that he comes across. Myrtle watches him curious from one of her stalls, and Potter mentally turns crimson, but Hairy takes no notice.

"Wow!" he finally exclaims as the last bubble disappears. He looks at Hermione expectantly, but she shakes her head.

"How are you not tired yet?" she laughs. Hairy just grins.

"You said I slept for a year! I don't wanna go back to bed yet."

"Well, that makes sense. You can't stay out for too long, though. Harry—er, big Harry—has to go to dinner soon."

Hairy pouts. His face brightens as he asks "I could go get dinner for him! I like food. Especially sweets! Maybe they'll have pudding for dessert."

"Sorry, but I don't think that… that Lily would like that much."

Hairy goes back to pouting, though he's quickly distracted when he realizes that he can draw pictures in the residual suds from the bubbles. "That's you," he explains, pointing to a stick figure with huge scribbles for hair. "That's me."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaims when she sees the long spikes that stick out from the stick figure's head. "No wonder they call you Hairy!"

"It's because I'm part wolf," Hairy says seriously. "I won't bite you, though. I bit Dudley once. He had to get a hundred stitches! They made me eat dinner from a dog bowl with the other dogs, so I ran away and lived in the woods til they said they'd be nicer."

Hermione doesn't seem to know how to react, probably wondering how much of the story is really true. Cheerful as ever, Hairy's gone back to drawing, this time an evil witch, fat pig boy, and monster. Finally, Hermione goes to carefully kneel down beside him. They spend a few minutes drawing together before Hairy gets bored.

"Do some more magic!" he demands.

"What would you like to see?"

Hairy crosses his arms and grins. "If I don't get dessert, you should get me some!"

"You're going to spoil Harry's appetite!" Hermione scolds him. Hairy sticks out his tongue.

"Don't care! A real witch could make me lots of sweets. Like a gingerbread house, a real one!"

"Doesn't the witch try to eat the children in that story?" Hermione asks. But, as requested, she summons a chocolate frog from her robes. "Will this do?"

At first, Hairy's a bit reluctant to eat something that's still moving, but when he can be persuaded that it's not really alive and won't actually be hurt, he's very happy to munch away.

"Thank you!" he says when he finishes, leaping at her without warning. The weight of Harry's body almost knocks her down—it, unlike Hairy, isn't exactly four anymore—but she doesn't seem to mind much even if he does smear bubble mix all over her robes.

"Bye Hairy!" she waves. "I'll talk to you again some other time, okay?"

"Okay," he nods, holding back a yawn, unused to having to front for so long. "Next time, you can take me flying, okay?"

"We'll see."

And then Potter finds himself back in the body, blinking heavily to clear the fog from his head. Avoiding looking at Hermione, he moves to clean the floor and their clothes, but she beats him to it with a wave of her wand.

When he looks up, she smiles at him. "Thank you," she says seriously.

"Don't mention it," Potter says, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "Honestly, Hermione, I'm the one who should be thanking _you_. Thank you for keeping an eye on him. Thank you for playing with him. Thank you for witnessing all of that and not running away…"

"Potter!" Hermione scolds. Before either of them really knows what she's doing, she whacks him lightly on the back of his head like she's done to Ron so many times before. Hurriedly, she continues, "I'm not leaving you all. You're my closest friends. I would miss Lily and Harrison too much… even if I could do without James." Her wink tells him that she's joking, though Potter couldn't blame her if she meant it.

"Thank you," he repeats. He wonders if this is going to become a habit when he has to turn away to turn away to hide a stray tear.

XXXXX

_A/N: Sorry for posting the wrong chapter at first!_

_This and the next chapter (coming soon to a theater near you!) were originally meant to be combined. However, this chapter is meant to be fluffy, a nice break from the drama. The next… not exactly. I thought that combining them might be a little too cruel, so you'll just have to wait for the next update. For that matter, I'm sorry for how slowly I'm updating right now. I have a lot of summer work that I need to complete by August 7__th__… and the alter that understands math and science seems to have disappeared. I'm slightly panicked, but hopefully that will turn out alright, somehow._

_As always, thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and subscribed! I love all of you. 3_

_Sakura Lisel: Don't be silly, Dumbledore can't risk the publicity that would occur if anyone was to realize that something was wrong with his golden boy! ;) And Potter's memories were not Obliviated. They were locked into a different alter; someone else took the experience for him. That's actually a really good point, though. I don't know what would happen if that spell was used on someone with DID!_

_Lillielle: Well, there wasn't much else that Potter could say! But hey, there's no shame to be found in panic attacks. :) And of course. EVERYTHING is a new alter, Lillielle, you of all people know this. ^^;_

_LaverdaHarleyIndian: Oh, I guess I did forget to include Freak in the list. Oops. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much, considering that I only remembered to list the alters that once. ^^;_

_Queen Paddie:_ _You have some interesting theories, but I suppose you'll have to see which, if any, are correct._

_Flaze: I always found the book's prejudice against Slytherins to be rather unnerving, to be honest. I'm trying to explore that a bit in this fic, though I don't know if I'm exaggerating too much._

_Dark Neko 4000: I wish that alters could have their own bodies! Maybe someday Harry will work out how to do that, but I don't think that his magic is quite advanced enough for that yet._

_Nahmen: The system's facing many problems right now. As relieved as they are to be away from the Dursleys, Voldemort isn't the only potential danger at Hogwarts. As for Harry himself, the others know that he's suffering, but short of encouraging him to split his pain away, there's not much that can be done. Of course, they could always try to remove him from the world as much as possible, keeping him safely inside, but Harry wouldn't appreciate that very much. As for James, if he acts better because he has the chance to work through his issues, then it's not necessary for another alter to take on the role of aggressor… unless, of course, the system suddenly needs someone to "keep them in line" to avoid further abuse.  
And yes, I've seen the video. It's great!_

_Lady Siren Jade Riddle: Thank you so much! I'm glad that you're enjoying this. I'll post a short list of Harry's alters on my profile so that you can check back to get a refresher whenever needed. As for how certain staff members will react, well, you'll find out soon enough._

_Man of Constant Sorrow: Thank you. ^.^ And yes, Draco will eventually need to be dealt with, but at the moment, he's too sheltered to be a threat. And yes, poor Harry!_


	32. Book 2 Chapter 6

The entire system feels frozen in terror. Even the shift of shadows long dormant seems to speak of a dread so deep that Harry can't even process it. He can feel his reality tearing, a shape attempting to form from the pain around it, but he forces it to retreat. He won't split, not now. He refuses to dampen any of the pain. It would feel like a betrayal of the worst sort. After all, how could he not allow himself to mourn their best friend?

_She's not dead_, Potter reminds him, though his voice is shaky and weak. _She's just petrified. The Mandrakes… really Harry, she'll be fine._

She was fine yesterday. Only a day before, they couldn't have imagined feeling happier. After all, for once in their lives, they were really accepted. They had been vulnerable, weak, even downright childish (truly a child, but that had never stopped anyone from hurting them before), yet Hermione had accepted it all with open arms. One of her arms is open now, held straight ahead of her. She's so stiff.

Harry turns away and sits down before he can faint. He's shaking, and Madam Pomfrey looks at with sympathy, but he doesn't care. The trembling continues even after Potter takes control. They had another blackout today. Was this…? Could it have been…?

There's another girl on the bed beside Hermione, a Ravenclaw girl. Her friends are there, as well. They're glaring at him. Ron's in front of him, shielding him from their accusing eyes, and Potter regrets every cruel thought he's ever had about the boy.

"Come on, Harry," he hears Ron say as if from a distance. Ron helps him to his feet and supports him until they a near a bathroom. There, Potter breaks away, dashes inside as quickly as he can, and promptly vomits.

XXXXX

Even the teachers eye him with suspicion. The students from other houses won't speak to him. At first, they mocked him, but Jay only had to blow up into an explosive fit about how she'd like to burn alive every single one of them, herself included, if that was their reaction to people dying. Shouldn't someone be _doing_ something? But nothing was done, not even to Harry. They were sent to Dumbledore. He lectured Jay about keeping her temper in check and again asked the system to tell him if they noticed anything strange. Nothing changed.

But everything's changed, and Harry's too tired to care. James is moody and secretive. He's taken to snapping at everyone, even his sister, and the Quidditch team no longer tries to talk to him. He's never successfully attacked anyone, but when his teammates first congratulated him on "finally getting that ugly little mud blood," he had to be restrained to keep him from breaking someone's nose. Potions, as well, is a nightmare. No longer content with seething in her corner, Jay snarks about Professor Snape whenever she gets the chance. He won't give her a detention, most likely because he doesn't want to spend any more time with her than necessary, but he's grading their papers much more harshly and seems close to trying to sabotage their potions.

At night, Harry doesn't sleep. During meals, he can only get down a few bites. Around him, the Slytherin table bursts with activity, but no one includes them in conversations anymore. Petal insults everyone that she comes across with gleeful malice. Oh, she's polite enough to those who hate Harry, and she'll even swallow her pride around students who think he should be proud of his status as a pure blood fanatic, but Ron knows better to approach them when their face gets that mean. Worse, Draco no longer wants to approach them at all. Whether they would previously care or not, they now need all of the allies that they can get. They'll have to confront him.

"Draco?" Potter asks cautiously. Draco barely looks up from his potions book, face remaining stony and closed. Potter sighs.

"Sorry?" he tries, but he's not surprised when Draco doesn't respond. He'll have to provide an excuse, then. Making sure that no one's wandering around directly outside, Potter closes the door to their dorm and makes for his bed. Draco bookmarks his page and prepares to leave, but Potter quickly grabs his arm. Draco jerks back with a glare.

"Draco, please." Potter closes his eyes and continues, "just let me explain."

"_Explain_?" Draco says distastefully. "Explain _what_, Potter? Why you've turned into such an nutjob all of sudden?"

"Yes, actually. Look, Draco… you know what I told you about my family before?"

Draco nods, looking suspicious.

"Well," Potter says, trying to decide how much to share, "I told you that they're awful. That was… well, that was a bit of an understatement. Draco, you can't tell anyone this, alright?"

Now Draco looks more nervous, and Potter realizes that he must know where this is going. Sheltered or not, Draco's not actually stupid. Potter's not sure yet if that's a good or bad thing.

"So, yes. My family abused me. It's not that I'm trying to excuse my behavior, don't get me wrong. Bad behavior is bad behavior, and circumstances don't change that. But it's relevant because… well, you know how to behave because your parents taught you, right? But what I learned from my parents is that you need to either fight back or make yourself scarce when someone's angry. Most of the time, it came down to running and hiding, but I can't do that here. Everyone's judging me for something that I didn't do, and old survival mechanisms are kicking up that really don't work anymore. I feel like I'm constantly under attack, and I don't know what is or isn't a good reaction. So yeah, I am kind of acting like a prick. It's stupid, but I can't always stop myself from freaking out."

There's a long stretch of silence, and Potter begins to regret sharing that much. Finally, Draco meets his eyes. What he says surprises him.

"Thank you for telling me." Draco laughs awkwardly, shaking his head. "Damn, Potter—Harry. I didn't…" Anger flashes across his face. "Does the Headmaster know that?"

_Shit_.

"I have nowhere else to stay," Potter says carefully. "I ended last summer with the Weasleys, but I don't want to intrude. Besides, it's not always awful at home…"

"Right," Draco snorts. "That old lunatic, sending you back to those filth!" He shakes his head in disgust before perking up a bit. "I'm sure that my father wouldn't mind you staying with us some time."

_Oh, I'm sure he'd love all of his Death Eater friends knowing exactly where they could find us! Not to mention the rush you'd get from having such a close relationship with the famous Boy Who Lived._

"Thank you, Draco." Potter tries to smile at his classmate and is relieved when Draco smiles back.

At least that problem was solved.

XXXXX

_A/N: This chapter was more an interlude than anything else. In a way, it's also an apology for updating so slowly before! I should warn that I may update slower in the future, as school's about to resume. As always, thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, subscribed, and commented._

_Again, I'm terribly sorry for the problem posting the last chapter! _

_Taylor1991: One thing that people always like to pretend "proves" that someone doesn't really have DID is a lack of time loss. Somehow, it doesn't occur to them that the DSM specifies memory alterations, not just blacking out! Even a system without memory alterations would have DDNOS. The misconception is mostly based on how the media over dramatizes the disorder, but it can unfortunately make people worry that maybe their diagnosis was incorrect.  
Yes, Petal would be (is) rather annoyed at how much attention is directed at Harry. From her experience, attention of any kind is bad news.  
That's right. Snake is a fragment. He does what he's meant to do-fit in with Slytherin- and doesn't question his role or what happens around him.  
As for why Snape's left out of the loop, you might be surprised at the communication breakdown that happens whenever abuse is implicated. The problems magnify exponentially when someone feels that they're partly to blame. Unfortunately, this is something I know from experience. People would rather think about it as rarely and abstractly as possibly._

_rmbell811: I'm glad that you liked it! If possible, I want to continue my story up until at least year 5._

_Ilessthan3KH: I'm glad that you're enjoying it so much! ^.^_


	33. Book 2 Chapter 7

*TW Violence*

He doesn't know who threw the first punch, but Freakazoid seems determined to throw the last. Potter doesn't know for sure why his housemates don't intervene, but he's not sure that he can blame them. After all, he's not trying to regain control, either. How many times now have they been attacked in the hallways by some overly zealous Gryffindor who's determined to take "justice" into their own hands? Granted, it's a group of Ravenclaws this time, but it's no different. It's not like ending this particular attack would change anything. At least no one tries to hex them anymore. Potter supposes that the other students noticed that he's more than capable of defending himself and returning the favor. However, as much as it pains him to admit it, starvation doesn't lend itself to strength, and as long as they refuse to use magic in an offensive manner, they're going to have to get used to being beaten to a pulp.

Potter almost feels like he jinxed them when the next hit sends them crashing to the floor. Freakazoid spits and curses, but he's holding his head like it hurts. Potter's too numb to feel it, but he's not worried. Lily can heal it. She's healed worse. He's more concerned about the fact that Bruises is trying so hard to front. If going limp would actually work, he'd consider letting the poor boy do his job, but he knows from experience that it wouldn't end well. Instead, he's fighting the urge to break their self-imposed restriction on magic. They'd get in horrible trouble for being involved in yet another fight, and, worse, James might completely lose it if they act "evil." Besides, how completely ironic would it be if they actually hurt someone while fighting over the fact that they didn't hurt anyone?

Still, Potter's not sure that this is any better. At least Freakazoid's back on his feet now. The oldest Ravenclaw isn't laughing like he was early on, not now that one of the younger students has a black eye. The crowd around them seems to have thickened a bit, and Potter would curse bystander apathy if he wasn't slightly glad that he doesn't have to rely on an outsider to save them. They can take care of themselves. They don't need anyone, especially not someone other than…

There's a sickening crunch as Freakazoid manages to break the taller girl's nose. Her companion shrieks and darts to her side, pulling her away from the fight despite her protests. Her boyfriend smashes their head against the wall for that, but Freakazoid just laughs. Vernon's done worse, the bullies have done worse. This is nothing. The boy seems a bit unnerved by this, and Potter picks out a few Slytherins cheering them on. At least their house supports them in its own way.

*End TW*

"What is going on here?" a voice thunders, apparently attracted by the noise of the crowd that now divides to allow the Professor through. One of the assailants backs up quickly as if trying to blend into the crowd, but the man's cold stare freezes them into place. Then the man's eyes flicker to Harry, and his jaw clenches, irritation settling into his eyes.

"Potter," he manages to grit out.

"Professor Snape," Potter nods in acknowledgement, quickly shoving Freakazoid aside to prevent a scene.

"All of you go back to your dorms," Snape coldly commands. Catching one of the aggressors by the arm, he clarifies, "except for those involved in this … delinquency." He jerks his chin towards Dumbledore's office. "You will be going to see the Headmaster… all of you."

"Sir," Seamus finally speaks up, "Harry didn't start this. He was attacked, he was just defending himself."

Snape's glare manages to magnify in intensity, but he releases the delinquent fifth year to grip Potter's arm instead. "To my office, Potter."

The crowd is slow to break, and Potter hears murmured gossip following him all the way down the dungeons. He doesn't protest when Snape practically throws him into a chair before dramatically swirling around to face him and glare some more.

"What were you _thinking_," he hisses.

"Sir?" Potter asks, a bit shocked.

Snape rolls his eyes as if Potter is thick. "They think," he says slowly, "that you are the heir. Fighting will not help—regardless of who started it."

"I'm sorry Sir," Potter says, but inside, he can feel anger overtake him. That's it? No, 'are you alright?' He didn't expect any better, and he tries to tell himself that Snape's just doing what he has to do as their Head of House. He can't excuse fighting, after all, and only Dumbledore can decide whether or not they're to blame for what happened. But Potter can't help it. Unbidden, memories spill into his mind. He's six, watching "Harry" get berated for refusing to talk to Dudley. He's eight, hearing the teacher yell at "Harry" to stop fighting with the boy who tried to feed him worms. He's nine, sick and tired of the counselor telling him to just ignore Piers. He's ten, and even his self hatred can't convince him that Vernon's right when he pins the blame on them yet again.

"Are you even listening?" Snape asks, irritated. Potter nods, clenching the chair. He closes his eyes and blinks heavily.

"Potter!" Snape barks. Potter forces his eyes back open, but the world is blurry, everything that he focuses on too sharp. His eyes close again, and he squeezes them as tightly shut as he can. The room is spinning a bit.

_What in Merlin's name is going on here? _James demands. Potter doesn't stop him from pushing his way to front, and the alter glares up at Snape. Then he laughs. _He looks like he wants to strangle me! What's this about violence being awful, again? Bloody hypocrite._

Snape bristles, not happy about James's rude behavior. "Do you take this to be a _joke_, Potter?"

"Not at all, _sir_." James's sneer is nowhere near as chilling as Snape's—in fact, it's rather arrogant—and the Professor's frown darkens.

"Do you think that this is a game, Potter?"

James winces at the name, but says nothing, so Snape continues. "With your insolent attitude, it's not surprising that many students suspect you of being the one behind the attacks. The circumstances do seem rather—suspicious, however, _surely_ you would not attack such a close… friend."

The barbed insult snaps James's self control, and he leaps from his seat and slams his fists into Snape's desk. Never one for attempting to be dramatic or dark, he shouts, "Right, blame it all on us! You filthy, greasy, **bastard**! No, you listen here, you… We would—I would never lay a hand on Hermione, I would never hurt her and you know it! She was our—my best friend, my only real friend. Do you have any idea what it's done to me to have her gone like this?! To know that everyone blames me, that they think I could ever hurt her… don't you dare act like I'm at fault here! Those students, they attacked me because they wanted an excuse to hurt me. Sure, they're angry about the Chamber, and yeah, a lot of them think that I did it. But—" and here James laughs wildly, "—but, they've been scared of me ever since I got into Slytherin. That's not my fault. That's not even about me! It's about this stupid house that Voldemort got into, it's about you and your stupid Death Eater past, maybe if Slytherins weren't such little bitches—!"

"That is enough." Snape and James stare at each other, both with fury visible in their eyes, strained postures betraying their desire for any excuse to rip the person in front of them apart.

"Go back to your dorm," Snape manages to breathe. James laughs again, grins bitterly when Snape stiffens, and turns around to leave. He's shaking a bit, adrenaline still coursing through his system. He isn't thinking rationally.

"Bet you'd like it if I was the one killing off your hated little muggle borns, wouldn't you."

Snape reaches them in a moment. For the second time that day, their head slams against the wall. This time, their already weakened control shatters.

The scream must sound hysterical. It's enough for Snape, angry as he must be, to release the collar of their shirt and take a step back in shock. Bruises flinches at the movement, staring up at him in mute terror. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, and a bit of snot is falling into his open mouth. He's trembling, but he makes no more noises. Snape still looks weary, but he backs away to his desk as if trying to see the situation from a clearer view. The moment that he's far enough away, Bruises darts into a corner and throws himself under a desk. He stares wildly around for a moment before throwing himself forwards again. His hands search out his hair and begin tearing wildly, scratching his face and hitting the wall without notice.

"Potter?" Snape asks. To his credit, shocked as he may be, his voice is much softer and could almost be described as gentle if one didn't know better. But Bruises doesn't acknowledge him, and his voice takes on an edge of panic. "Potter! Stop that at once!"

Bruises stops with the head banging, but he places most of a fist into his mouth and begins to bite. His other hand is still busy tearing at his hair, and he never stopped crying. Snape seems at a loss.

"I won't hurt you," he informs Bruises, but he's not sure if the boy even heard him. After a moment, he tries, "Would you prefer that I get the Headmaster? No, I shouldn't leave you alone, you might—" Coming to his senses, the potions master retrieves a Calming Drought. He approaches Bruises slowly, noting that the boy instantly stills when he gets too close. He crouches down on his knees and offers the potion, but Bruises makes no indication that he's going to take it.

"Drink this, Po—Harry," Snape says. Regardless of his intention, he seems surprised when Bruises fearfully obeys. Snape waits with baited breath. The potion only seems to take the edge off of the boy's terror, but when Snape returns to his desk, it's enough for Bruises to escape out of the door. He doesn't notice Snape staring after him.

XXXXX

_A/N: As always, thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, subscribed, and read! I actually have a question for those who can answer. I'm female, and Harry is obviously not. Is my portrayal of a male trauma survivor accurate? I know many men who were abused, but I'm not privy to their thoughts, and I want to make sure that I'm not writing this incorrectly._

_Warlord1096: Thank you! I'm glad that you're enjoying this Fanfic. I have to say that due to my own experience with the disorder, I'm not fond of the idea of ending the story with Harry integrating. Really, it's not realistic; even if I took the story through his 7__th__ year, it's unlikely that Harry would be completely healed and alone in his mind. Due to the severe nature of the abuse that causes DID, it can take a while to heal from, and Harry has no access to an experienced DID therapist to help him. However, some of his alters may be able to integrate when their individual trauma is resolved. As for your question about who wrote the story, my name is Rage. I'm the host of the system. I would prefer that you not refer to me, or any alter, as an aspect, if you don't mind. I'm not angry, it's just something that always makes me feel a bit strange, as if people don't view me as a person at all in my own right._


	34. Book 2 Chapter 8

"Something is wrong with Potter."

Dumbledore pauses and looks up at Snape. The Potion Master's face must be paler than usual, or perhaps it's just that he interrupted a meeting between Dumbledore and McGonagall. The Headmaster puts down his pen with a sigh, and, for a moment, Snape is struck with the idea that the man is terribly old.

"Please," Dumbledore says, "continue." He and McGonagall listen attentively as Snape explains the events of the past hour along with other things that he's noticed since Harry Potter was placed into his house. Only McGonagall visibly reacts, collapsing back into her chair in horror, but the light seems to have fled from Dumbledore's eyes. Snape doesn't notice.

"What is wrong with the boy?" He demands. "I've never seen anything like it. I had assumed that he just wanted attention, but now…"

"Minerva," Dumbledore says with some difficulty, "perhaps you should leave us."

"Headmaster!" McGonagall protests. "The boy may not be one of mine, but you know that I care for him."

"Very well," Dumbledore sighs. For a minute, no one speaks, but the Headmaster seems to be thinking of how to say something. Finally, he looks at both McGonagall and Snape in turn as if searching for something. "I don't suppose that you've ever heard of Multiple Personality Disorder?"

XXXXX

_What in Merlin's name is going on? _James demands. No one answers him, but when he glares in McGonagall's direction, she quickly turns away. Honestly, he's relieved. He caught her staring at them earlier, and the mix of disgust and pity in her eyes made him want to puke (preferably on her shoes or some other nice item that he could potentially destroy). She's not the first teacher today to look at them like that, either. If James's isn't going insane with paranoia (and he isn't), he would have sworn that the entire row of professors was staring at them this morning and gossiping behind their hands. Only Snape stubbornly avoided looking in their direction, and it makes James's blood boil. He knows exactly what must have happened. Snape told everyone how they reacted yesterday, and now the staff knows just how fucked in the head they are. No wonder McGonagall doesn't want to deal with them anymore! Who would?

Tensely, James glances at the students around him, but no one will meet his eyes. Apparently, Dumbledore made an announcement that students are not to talk about the Chamber of Secrets until mature discussions can occur without classes being disrupted, and even their classmates have decided that this means that the best option is to pretend that he doesn't exist. To be fair, James can't say that he minds. He should have known that a school filled with freaks was going to showcase some rather unflattering behaviors.

For the rest of class, James lays his head on the desk and pretends to sleep. No one bothers him, and he's almost bored to tears by the time that the bell rings. Relieved, he grabs his books and all but runs to his next class. Unfortunately, it goes little better than the first. There's no disgust in Flitwik's eyes, but there is fear. James begins to wonder just what the Professor was told. Though he tries his best to shield her, Lily notices their teacher's behavior, and a dark cloud descends on them all. Herbology is no better, though at least Blaise tries his best to engage them in conversation. Finally, they have Potions, and when Jay joins James at front, they're about ready to murder a certain someone.

But Snape still won't look at them. In fact, he'll barely look at anyone. While he's quicker than ever to snap, his usual composure is gone, and he seems almost restless. The students begin to wonder if he's sick. Jay hears one student sneer that "Harry Potter" released whatever is in the Chamber was on him but decided that he hated the professor enough to leave him alive; Snape doesn't even look their way when the Gryffindor has to go to the hospital wing because of their mysteriously exploding potion. For the first time in James's memory, his sister is silent with fear.

They don't sleep that night.

XXXXX

Their first class of the day is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potter is considering running off into the Forbidden Forest instead of seeing how Lockhart's reacting to whatever rumors have swept through the professors. He enters the classroom so tense that his muscles begin to ache, but his fear is unplaced. Lockhart is the same as ever, though he does seem to be regarding them a bit more closely than usual. Still, his attention is focused on a different outlet: dueling.

"It will be a marvelous class, a wonderful opportunity for all of you to show off your skills and learn from each other and, of course, myself." He flashes a bright smile at the class, and his eyes land on Potter. "Of course, Harry will be there, as well. Perhaps he can show all of you some new tricks! Don't worry, I'm well aware that young folk prefer to learn from their peers." He winks, and Potter's face goes bright red with anger and shame. When someone taps him on the shoulder, he almost jumps out of his seat. But to his surprise, the face that he turns to meet, though holding back snickers like everyone else, is friendly.

"God, he's a nutter, isn't he?" the girl, Flora Crow, mutters. She rolls her eyes dramatically, sighing, "and now you'll have to show up just to avoid him pitching a fit over it! Sucks. Bet the other houses will panic, too… actually, that might not be so bad." She winks, and Potter's struck by how expressive her features are. She seems sincere enough, if not the nicest person he's ever met. Ignoring his silence, she continues, "really, though. You've proven that you can beat them in battle, so they leave you alone. But maybe if you can show them up in a proper wizard duel, they'll respect you a bit more. For the wizard families, at least, those kinds of things still hold some weight. The muggleborns are a bit silly, don't seem to like seeing anyone get beaten, but they're not the ones who buy into the rumors as much, anyway, because you're still a normal student to most of them."

"… Thank you," Potter says when it becomes obvious that a reply is needed. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Not very social, are you? Not that I can blame you, not with all this crap going on. Now hush before we attract Lockhart's attention. I rather prefer flying under his radar. Good luck being the favored one!" she mocks before glaring when he attempts to speak again. Obediently, he turns back to his notes. He revises her opinion of her; perhaps there are some pretty decent Slytherins still, after all.

XXXXX

It's noisy and crowded. People are pushing in on Potter from all sides, and he wonders how Lockhart convinced this many people to show up in the first place. Is he offering some sort of extra credit for the people who participate? He does seem extremely enthusiastic. He's working his way through the crowd now, shaking hands and patting people on the shoulder. For the first time in far too long, Potter finds himself laughing. Is this just the size of Lockhart's fan base?

Finally, Lockhart is standing on the dueling platform, calling for silence and people's attention. After taking a moment to attempt to "naturally pose," he explains the rules of formal wizard dueling and introduces his assistant: Professor Snape.

Whatever Lockhart says next, Potter misses it. He's too busy picking his jaw up off the floor, and he's not the only one. Snape, for his part, doesn't look very happy to be there, but at least he seems to have recovered from the events of last week, though, admittedly, it's hard to tell with him. It's not until a hush falls over the crowd that Potter manages to tune back in to Lockhart's speech.

"Our first duelists will be…" the man says with a dramatic pause, "Sabrina Fawcett… and… Harry Potter!"

Potter wants to smack the man in the face. Of _course_ he wants them to duel an upperclassman from Ravenclaw. Of bloody _course_.

For her part, Sabrina doesn't look any happier, but at least she doesn't refuse to bow before the duel begins. The two students stand at ready as Lockhart slowly counts down to one. He's barely started the duel when Sabrina begins launching spell after spell. Potter finds himself throwing up shields faster than he ever has before, resorting to physically dodging some of the more powerful hexes. What happened to disarming, not maiming?! Neither of the professors seems inclined to interfere, so Potter just does his best not to get hit. How long will this continue? He tries to return a few jinxes of his own, but Sabrina has to be at least two grades ahead of him, and it's child's play for her to defend against the few spells that second years are taught. Should he abandon traditional spells and let Lily form an attack of her own?

The coming spells are relentless, and Potter finds his patience wearing thin. He recognizes some of the incantations, and he realizes that if he were to be hit, he could actually be seriously injured. Why is no one stepping up to help him? Why does no one ever care what happens to him? Do they assume that just because he's the precious Boy Who Lived, he can survive anything? Do they think he'll win just because he's managed not to die yet? Fine, then. He'll have to give them what they want.

Magic stirs from somewhere deep inside of him, and Potter grasps it firmly and pulls it to him. He doesn't have time to strengthen his shield charm against a particularly nasty assault, but the magic, he quickly discovers, is a far better armor. Startled, Sabrina takes a moment to reinforce her own shield, and Potter takes the opportunity. He doesn't think. He sends the magic careening towards her, and it smashes through her shield in an instant. Her mouth forms an 'o' of horror as she's spent flying back several feet and smashes into a wall. She crumbles into a heap on the floor, and for a second, the world seems to freeze. Then she groans, and her hand twitches towards her head, and Potter sinks to the floor himself, dizzy with relief. Now that the magic's draining back away from him, he's surprisingly tired, and he's forced to remember how long he's gone without a proper night of sleep.

"Potter!" a voice yells in the distance. Then someone's roughly knocking him to the side. It takes him for a moment to process the light that just zipped by his head. For a moment, everyone seems too stunned to react. Then, spells are flying everywhere. Not even Lockhart can make his voice heard over the roar of the crowd. It doesn't take long, however, for some of the students to take up a chant.

"Kill the snakes!"

The student- Theodore Nott, Potter recognizes- helps pull him to his feet, and they both dash down to join the frenzy. Potter doesn't want to hurt anyone, but he's not sure that he has a choice. A frighteningly large number of students are now attacking any Slytherin that they see, and many Slytherins are returning the favor. To his relief, quite a few students from other houses are helping to defend his classmates, but that only seems to encourage the aggressors to attack anyone they come across. Soon, even Potter can't tell what side anyone's on, but he fears that if he pauses for even a moment, he'll be killed. He tries to keep his spells defensive or meant to disarm his opponent, but as the fighting continues and the noise grows, he finds himself shouting off anything that enters his memory. Later, he'll be thankful that he was never taught much in class.

At one point, he thinks that he might see Snape attempting to break up a group of Hufflepuffs that have resorted to fist fighting, but at the other side of the crowd, Lockhart botches every spell that he tries to cast, and he's only making things worse. Potter doesn't have time to dwell on it, and a stray spell sends him crumpling in pain, left knee protesting every shift in weight.

_Stop it! _Lily begs when she finishes healing them. Potter takes a deep breath, coming to his senses. Nothing good can come out of this. Already, people are getting severely injured, and even the people who are trying to leave are getting crushed by the crowd. He's never seen a mob before, but he knows what this must be. Feeling downright sick, he resolves to do nothing more than cast shields around others now. There's no reason to try and leave. This isn't about him anymore; it's years of bitter house rivalries finally exploding. The least that he can do is get as many people out of the danger zone as he can.

Time isn't working correctly anymore, and he has no idea how long he's been blocking spells and even using his own body as a barrier. His head is pounding, and he's not thinking clearly. That's probably why, when he comes across a large snake about to attack a first year, he actually tries to tell it to stop instead of just disposing of it. It doesn't even register to him how strange it is when the snake listens. A few people scream, but so many people are screaming that he doesn't even notice. Only when the noise gradually stops does he realize that he's done something strange _again_.

Well, at least the fighting has stopped. The whispering is spreading like wildfire across the crowd, and even the outer edges are now stopping their feuding to stare at him as he tries to fight his way out. He's considering trying to work his way over to where he had seen Draco, instead, when Snape swoops in and grabs his arm in a death grip. Reluctantly, the crowd again parts for the professor. As they leave, Potter can dimly make out Lockhart saying something, attempting to admonish the students for their behavior. Then the doors slam behind them, and Snape releases his hold to rub his own temples. Potter doesn't say anything. The other students will be trickling back to their dorms, soon, but he can't say that he's inclined to speak to Snape ever again. Actually, he's given up and is walking towards the dungeons himself when Snape finally speaks.

"_Potter_, " he says, helpless horror permeating his voice. "Don't you know that the only one who could speak Parseltongue in this age would be the heir of Slytherin?"

XXXXX

_A/N: School's started back up, so updating may be a bit sporadic for a while. I'll try my best to keep it to once a week, but no promises, unfortunately._

_Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed!_

_JackBunjeeKiki: I can't believe that I missed your review last time! Thank you so much, your review made me so incredibly happy to read._

_Lillielle: Thank you! Yes, Snape isn't nearly as attentive to Harry in my story as he is in yours. (For those who didn't know or forgot, Lillielle has her own DID!Harry story, you should check it out)._

_FraggleGaggles: I'm glad that you're enjoying it! I don't know about ending the story with a tragedy, but I have considered splitting it near the end and writing two different versions, one darker than the other, so you may get something close to your wish._

_Ariaelyne: Thank you! And if I can help any with your confusion towards DID, just ask. I'm open to answering any questions that you might have, and I know of resources that might be helpful, as well._

_KoniK47: Thanks. I can understand your initial skepticism; there are a lot of stories out there that don't portray DID in a very positive or even interesting manner. I swear, I've seen enough Mary Sues with ~split personality syndrome~ to last a life time! I'm glad to hear that you think that this does pull it off well._

_Man of Constant Sorrow: That's not a stupid question at all. Yes, actually, some alters are unable to feel pain or have a higher pain tolerance than the host. It's actually common for physically abused children to seem not to react to pain because they've gotten used to it or know that reacting will just make it worse. This can be taken to incredible levels with alters because they may not feel connected to the body at all. Thank you for the review!_

_Thanks as well to Ilessthan3KH and Polar Opposite for the reviews!_


End file.
